Like a Spring Flower
by Annamia
Summary: Harry Potter has always hated Halloween. As he sneaks out of the annual feast early, he meets up with a certain blond Slytherin. Friendship and love follows. HD slash
1. An intimate moment between enemies

An intimate moment between enemies

_Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Sort of anxty, sort of sweet. Definite hints towards H/D. I haven't decided whether to continue, though there might be a parallel from Draco's point of view._

He had always hated Halloween. What reason did he have to like it, after all? It was a day of sadness, not of joy in his life, not to mention the fact that everyone seemed far too inclined to play pranks to 'keep up with the spirit of the occasion, you know?' It made him sick.

He'd slipped out from the feast, claiming homework. Ron looked scandalized, but a quick elbow in the ribs from Hermione, who understood these things, shut him up. She just looked at Harry compassionately, saying that she would be up to the common room in a bit. He didn't tell her that he had no intention of going to the common room.

He walked out of the castle and onto the grounds, shivering as a blast of cold wind caught him. He wrapped his cloak farther around himself and set off at a trot towards the lake. He remembered suddenly that this was where he'd gone to after Sirius'… after Sirius. Why did it call to him like that? He shrugged. It didn't matter. He slowed as he approached, realizing with a start that there was someone else there already. He stopped stock still when he saw the moonlight glinting off ice-blond hair. He approached cautiously, wondering what in _hell_ Malfoy was doing out here, on tonight of all nights. Surely the blond boy had better things to do.

'Like torment you,' a voice in his head said malevolently.

'Shut up,' Harry retorted silently. He could never work up the spirit of anger on Halloween. All of his anger and hatred was reserved for Voldemort. Not even Voldemort's followers were spared room in Harry's heart on the night.

He walked up to the lake, deciding just to ignore Malfoy. It didn't matter if the Slytherin was there; Harry wouldn't bother him if he was left alone. Malfoy didn't look up as Harry sat down a little ways away from him, engrossed in contemplating his knees. Harry himself stared moodily into the lake, wondering about nothing in particular. He couldn't have said how long the two of them sat there, silently ignoring each other, but after a while, he could have sworn that he heard muffled sobs coming from the other boy.

Harry looked over at him in surprise. Sure enough, Malfoy's knees were drawn up to his chest, and he was crying into his lap. Harry wondered what on Earth to do. He hated Malfoy, even tonight, but he couldn't very well leave him to cry there. He ignored his inner voice, which was remarking nastily that Malfoy wouldn't have done anything for_him_, and moved closer. Malfoy didn't notice him.

Harry watched him cry for a moment, then noticed that he was shivering. It_was_ cold out, and Malfoy wasn't wearing anything but a light set of summer robes. Harry frowned for a fraction of a second, then whipped off his own cloak and carefully put it over Malfoy's shoulders. Malfoy stiffened. He looked up, his eyes red rimmed and still dribbling tears. His face hardened when he saw Harry.

"What do you want, Potter?" he snarled.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, wondering just what he was getting into. Malfoy wouldn't appreciate his help, after all, and he _was_ a highly competent wizard. Still, he was committed now, and he couldn't back down.

"Nothing that concerns you," Malfoy snapped, looking back down into his lap. He didn't shrug Harry's cloak off, though, and Harry supposed that it was a start.

"Then why aren't you at the feast?"

"For the same reason as you aren't, I imagine," Malfoy said, his voice muffled by his knees once again.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I doubt it," he said dryly. "_Your_ parents are still alive."

"And this is a good thing why?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry blinked. What was _that_ supposed to mean? "At least you _have_ a family."

Malfoy raised his head again, eyeing Harry with a sarcastic smile. "Potter, what makes you think I have a family?"

"They're not dead, are they?"

Malfoy snorted. "It might be better if they were."

Harry frowned. "This would make so much more sense if you would explain it to me, you know."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You need it spelled out, do you?" Harry nodded. "All right. My parents, Potter, are Death Eaters of the highest rank, as I'm sure you know. I am, of course, expected to follow in their footsteps. Unfortunately, I would rather not end up dead. It's a rather fine line to walk, and there are times when it gets hard to handle. Tonight is one of those times."

"But why did you come here?" Harry pressed.

"Because I thought I would be alone," Malfoy snapped. "Obviously I was mistaken. Are you going to do anything other than ask stupid questions?"

Harry didn't answer, and after a moment, Malfoy added softly, "You're luckier than you realize."

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"You have people who care about you," Malfoy said simply. "Far too many of us don't."

"You're wrong," Harry blurted out. "You have people who care."

Malfoy raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "And just who are you talking about?" he asked.

Harry took a deep breath, wondering just what had come over him. "I do," he said quietly.

Malfoy snorted. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"I care," Harry said again. "And so do others."

"Why should _you_ care?" Malfoy demanded. "I haven't done anything to warrant such an… emotional response from you."

"You told me the truth," Harry pointed out. "There aren't many people who are willing to do that these days."

"You asked," Malfoy pointed out.

"You could have refused."

"Would you have accepted that?"

"No."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

Harry didn't answer. He was learning that this was a good way to get Malfoy to say more. Sure enough, "Besides, you listened."

Harry had a sudden flash of insight into Malfoy's life. His parents were Death Eaters, which meant that they weren't home often. Even before that, they'd almost certainly been gone often. At school, he was hated by most people, and feared by the rest. Harry realized with a start just how lonely Malfoy must be.

"I'll always listen, if you have something to say."

Malfoy snorted his disbelief.

"I will," Harry insisted. "We're more alike than you realize."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And just how are we alike?" he wanted to know.

"Neither of us live with people who accept us for who we are," Harry said, ticking off reasons on his fingers as he went. "Half the people in this school only know our names because we're famous –or infamous, in your case. Neither of us like opening ourselves up to people, and both of us hate Care of Magical Creatures."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot sky high. "You don't like Care of Magical Creatures?" he demanded. "You'd never know, the way you all go on about it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You think I like the _class_? I do it for Hagrid, of course."

"Of course," Malfoy agreed dryly. "You could never guess, you know."

"I do my best," Harry agreed. There was another beat of silence.

"Who_do_ you live with, anyway?" Malfoy asked suddenly, an openly curious expression on his usually guarded face.

Harry made a face. "My aunt and uncle," he said. "And my cousin. Muggles all of them."

Malfoy grimaced. "Let me guess… they're afraid of you, aren't they?"

Harry nodded.

"Idiots," Malfoy said.

"They_should_ be afraid of me," Harry objected. "I hate them enough that, if not for the fact that I'm likely to be expelled for the tiniest drop of magic anywhere in the vicinity of the house, I'd probably end up doing unspeakable things to them all."

"That bad, are they?"

Harry nodded.

There was yet another silence. Harry glanced up at the castle, amazed at how much time had passed. There were lights in Gryffindor Tower, a sure sign that the feast was over. Malfoy, seeing the direction of his gaze, stood. Even after sitting in the same position for over an hour, his movements were graceful and sure of themselves. He nodded to Harry, then hesitated. Suddenly making up his mind, the blond boy crossed the distance between them and gave him a swift kiss full on the lips. Before Harry had a chance to react, Malfoy was striding off across the grounds, Harry's cloak billowing out behind him as he walked. Harry pressed his hand slowly to his lips, marveling at the softness of Malfoy's lips on his. He suddenly realized that he was shivering. Shaking his head at his own folly, he made his own way up to the castle. As he approached the entrance, he found his cloak, neatly folded and placed out of the way. He picked it up, unwilling to shake it out just yet. Almost without realizing what he was doing, his gaze moved over across the grounds. A single figure was standing a little ways away, just hidden enough to conceal his identity. Harry didn't care. He knew two things as he looked at Malfoy, still standing out in the cold air. He knew that Malfoy would stay out there for most of the night, and he knew that he himself would see Malfoy again soon.

Smiling slightly, he pulled open the door and walked out of the cold air and into the warmth of the castle.


	2. Moments of truth

Moments of truth

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Sort of anxty, sort of sweet. Definite hints towards H/D. This is a parallel story of Intimate Moment: the same snapshot from Draco's POV.

He'd thought he was coping, had thought that he had his emotions under control. But he didn't. Not nearly as much as he'd hoped. Granted, he had managed to get through almost the entire day without anyone noticing what was wrong, but just the thought of the feast send shivers of terror down his spine. He couldn't do it; couldn't face all those people. So he didn't. He slipped out of the mass of students and set off towards the door, hoping to slip out unnoticed.

His plan worked perfectly, and moments later he found himself walking towards the lake, shivering as he remembered that it was cold in Scotland at the end of October. He didn't want to go back and fetch a cloak, though, and he wasn't that cold. He would live. He dropped down to a sitting position before the lake, turning his back to the castle and drawing his knees up to his chest. He wished he were numb, wished that the cold would permeate his entire body and leave him without feelings. It would make his life easier, and he desperately needed a break.

He didn't notice the other boy walking up to him, and the boy didn't seem to realize that he was there. If he had, he would have made a fuss, Draco was sure of it. And so, he ignored the other boy's presence, allowing his feelings to overwhelm him at last. What did it matter whether or not anyone witnessed him? He had as much right to tears as they did, probably even more.

As though in response to his thoughts, the tears began to come, slowly at first, then faster and faster until they formed a veritable torrent. He cried for himself and for the news that he had received only that morning: nothing too special, only yet another reminder that he was not all his parents could wish for. In effect, the letter had only served as the last straw. This had been coming for a long time now.

_He felt someone drape a cloak over his shoulders, and he fought to control his tears. A moment later, he looked up, his gray eyes looking directly into Potter's green ones. _"What do you want, Potter?" he snarled.

"What's wrong?" Potter asked. Draco blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. And why did _Potter_ care? He hated Draco, just as much as Draco hated him.

"Nothing that concerns you," he snapped, looking back down into his lap. He wished that Potter would leave him be. He didn't need sympathy or insults, and he _certainly_ didn't need any from Potter. Still, it _was_ cold, and Potter had offered. He kept the cloak.

"Then why aren't you at the feast?" Draco winced at the question, just as glad that Potter couldn't see him

"For the same reason as you aren't, I imagine," he said, his voice muffled by his knees.

"I doubt it," Potter said dryly. "_Your_ parents are still alive." Draco took a chance and glanced up, keeping his head tucked into his knees. Potter's eyebrows were raised disdainfully, but he seemed genuinely curious.

"And this is a good thing why?" Draco demanded, wondering just how much he was going to reveal. He had no intention of telling his life story to the git, after all. Even so, he had been asking for it.

Potter blinked, and Draco wondered just what the Golden Boy of Gryffindor thought his life was like. "At least you _have_ a family."

Draco raised his head all the way, eyeing Potter with a sarcastic smile. Potter just didn't get it, and Draco intended to set him right. Without asking himself if it was a good idea or not, he said "Potter, what makes you think I have a family?"

"They're not dead, are they?"

Draco snorted. Potter _was_ naïve to the blacker parts of family life, wasn't he? Well, that wouldn't last long. "It might be better if they were."

Potter frowned. "This would make so much more sense if you would explain it to me, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You need it spelled out, do you?" Potter nodded. Draco grimaced inwardly. 'He's a Gryffindor,' he reminded himself. 'Simple sentences and easy words.'

"All right. My parents, Potter, are Death Eaters of the highest rank, as I'm sure you know. I am, of course, expected to follow in their footsteps. Unfortunately, I would rather not end up dead. It's a rather fine line to walk, and there are times when it gets hard to handle. Tonight is one of those times." There! _That_ should get the idiot thinking!

"But why did you come here?" Potter pressed.

"Because I thought I would be alone," Draco snapped. How thick could Potter _be_? "Obviously I was mistaken. Are you going to do anything other than ask stupid questions?"

Potter didn't answer. Draco decided to say more. Not about him, though. He was done talking about himself "You're luckier than you realize."

Potter blinked. "What do you mean?" he demanded. Draco looked at him, a slightly amused smile carefully hidden. He really had no idea, did he?

"You have people who care about you," he said simply. "Far too many of us don't."

"You're wrong," Potter blurted out. "You have people who care."

Draco raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Obviously Potter was imagining things. "And just who are you talking about?" he asked.

Potter took a deep breath. Draco watched him impatiently, wondering just what he was going to say. If he started up with the 'all sisters and brothers under magical law' junk, Draco swore he would hex him. But when Potter did speak, his words caught Draco completely buy surprise.

"I do," he said quietly.

Draco snorted. "Excuse me?" he asked. Potter must have made a mistake, must not have meant it. Why would he care about _Draco_? He hated Draco! For that matter, Draco hated him too. It would do him good to remember that.

"I care," Potter said again. "And so do others."

"Why should _you_ care?" Draco demanded. He was _not_ going to stand for the other boy's pity, he _wasn't_! But it felt good to have someone at least _pretend_ to care. Shame that it had to be Potter, though. "I haven't done anything to warrant such an… emotional response from you."

"You told me the truth," Potter pointed out. "There aren't many people who are willing to do that these days."

"You asked," Draco retorted. Surely that wasn't it! Surely there was pity hiding in there somewhere. But, try as he might, he couldn't find anything but genuine emotion in Potter's emerald eyes.

"You could have refused."

"Would you have accepted that?"

"No."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

Potter didn't answer. Draco sighed. Potter was using silence to his advantage. Where had he learned that Draco couldn't abide with too much silence? It didn't matter: he had to say _something_ to break it. As before, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Besides, you listened."

Potter didn't answer for a moment longer, and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from saying more. He would _not_ discuss any more of his childhood with Potter, he _wouldn't_! It wasn't any of his business, and Draco certainly didn't want to talk about it.

Potter finally spoke, and when he did, Draco just knew that the emotion was genuine. "I'll always listen, if you have something to say."

Draco snorted his disbelief, though much of it was an act. He wanted Potter to explain himself, and disbelief seemed the best way to achieve that.

"I will," Potter insisted. "We're more alike than you realize."

Draco raised an eyebrow. This was getting to be too much. "And just how are we alike?" he wanted to know.

"Neither of us live with people who accept us for who we are," Potter said, ticking off reasons on his fingers as he went. "Half the people in this school only know our names because we're famous –or infamous, in your case. Neither of us like opening ourselves up to people, and both of us hate Care of Magical Creatures."

Draco's eyebrows shot sky high as he eagerly grasped the only part of the speech that didn't touch on an uncomfortably intimate topic. "You don't like Care of Magical Creatures?" he demanded. "You'd never know, the way you all go on about it."

Potter rolled his eyes. "You think I like the _class_? I do it for Hagrid, of course."

"Of course," Draco agreed dryly, his mind shifting to accept this new point of view. Some of Potter's blasted enthusiasm was explained now, as was his protectiveness of the oaf. "You could never guess, you know."

"I do my best," Potter agreed. There was another beat of silence, and Draco gave up.

"Who _do_ you live with, anyway?" he asked, curious. He suddenly realized that he'd never even bothered to wonder where Potter lived.

Potter made a face. "My aunt and uncle," he said. "And my cousin. Muggles all of them."

Draco grimaced. "Let me guess… they're afraid of you, aren't they?"

Potter nodded.

"Idiots," Draco said, and he was amazed to realize that he actually meant it.

"They _should_ be afraid of me," Potter objected. "I hate them enough that, if not for the fact that I'm likely to be expelled for the tiniest drop of magic anywhere in the vicinity of the house, I'd probably end up doing unspeakable things to them all."

"That bad, are they?"

Potter nodded.

There was yet another silence. Potter glanced up at the castle, and Draco couldn't help looking as well. He was suddenly loath to leave, but he knew that he had to. They'd been out for almost an hour, after all. He stood and nodded to Potter, then hesitated. Suddenly making up his mind, Draco reached across the distance between them and gave Potter a swift kiss full on the lips. Before Potter had a chance to push him away, Draco was striding off across the grounds, Potter's cloak billowing out behind him as he walked. Why had he done that? It wasn't as though he liked Potter! He didn't! He hated him, always had! But they had just spent over an hour in each other's company without once yelling or reaching for their wards. Obviously something had changed between them.

Draco got to the door and hesitated. Potter or not, he still wasn't willing to go back inside. He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was wearing Potter's cloak. It would never do for him to be seen with that, much less with Potter himself. He carefully slipped it off his shoulders and folded it, dropping it neatly to the side of the door. He shivered in the cold wind, but it didn't seem as bad as it had been. He was warmed by something new in his soul: the care of another person, even if that person had to be Saint Potter.

As Potter got to the door, he looked in surprise at his cloak. His eyes searched the darkness and met Draco's. Without words, he conveyed two things: that he understood precisely how much longer Draco would stay out, and that they would talk again. Then, he passed through the doors and into the castle, leaving Draco alone once again.


	3. You have me

You have me

_Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. WARNING: suicide attempts and depressing thoughts and mild swearing. Still pre-slash, unfortunately. We'll get to the real stuff, I promise!_

The news had shocked the entire school: Draco Malfoy had tried to commit suicide. To Harry, who hadn't gotten up his courage to talk with the other boy since Halloween, it was both a nightmare and a golden opportunity.

Naturally, rumors abounded as to why he'd done it. They ranged from stupid ones about bad grades to very plausible stories of Death Eaters and his family. Harry suspected the latter: he hadn't forgotten their conversation.

Actually, that had been about all he could think about. Well, to perfectly honest, it wasn't the conversation itself that he stuck in his mind, but the kiss that had followed it. Had Malfoy meant it? Did Harry want Malfoy to have meant it? The fact that the answer to that last question was yes didn't reassure him much. He was tempted to check himself into the hospital wing to make sure that he was mentally sound, but he was afraid of what the answer might be.

Now, though, he didn't have much of a choice. Malfoy was there, and Harry couldn't deny that he desperately wanted to see the blond Slytherin again. Telling himself that he was just making sure that it hadn't been an attack, he snuck out of Gryffindor tower and made his way down to the hospital wing.

His first sight of Malfoy was not promising. The blond boy had deep shadows under his eyes, and he was sleeping restlessly. Harry could see the bandages around his wrists where he'd tried to cut them, and they were still slightly spotted with blood. Cat-quiet, Harry crept closer, doing his best to restrain the urge to touch the sleeping form.

He pulled off the invisibility cloak and sat down next to Malfoy's restless form. He finally gave in to his urge to touch Malfoy, and gently took one of his hands. Instantly, Malfoy quieted, and a small smile speared on his face. It was thinner than it had been at Halloween, Harry noted. Why hadn't he noticed? Because he expected Malfoy to always be the same, he thought. Malfoy was a cornerstone of Harry's world, and it was inconceivable that anything would change between them.

Except, of course, that it had. It had changed on Halloween, with a conversation and a kiss. Nothing had been quite the same after that, and neither of them could pretend otherwise.

"Why did you do it?" Harry whispered to the blond boy. "What could be bad enough to cause you to try something like that?"

"What do you think?"

Harry started. Malfoy's gray eyes flickered open, eyeing him in exasperation. Harry was suddenly supremely conscious that he was holding Malfoy's hand. Only the bandages on his wrist prevented Harry from dropping it like a hot coal. Instead, he gently pulled his hand back, blushing as he did so. He'd hoped that it was too dark to notice, but Malfoy's mocking smile told him that his hopes were unfounded.

"What do you mean?" With an effort, he pulled his mind off Malfoy's smile and back to his words.

"You really are quite thick, aren't you Potter?" Malfoy asked. "I mean, my father decided that it was time to be initiated. I have no desire to become like him."

"So you tried to kill yourself?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't have any other choice."

Harry stared at him. "You always have a choice!" he insisted.

Malfoy's face turned stone cold. "_You_, might," he said icily. "Not everyone has your luck, Potter. Remember that."

Harry would have taken a step back at the venom in Malfoy's voice. He felt as though all the warmth had flowed out of him, as though Malfoy had suddenly turned into a new kind of Dementor. He couldn't believe how much the iciness of Malfoy's voice and expression hurt.

"I…" he began.

Malfoy cut him off with a sneer. "I don't want to hear about how miserable you are at your home," he snarled. "_That's_ not what I was referring to."

"Then, what…?"

"Here. Hogwarts. Tell me that you don't have friends. Tell me that there aren't people who would do anything for you. For that matter, tell me that you don't always have choices."

Harry was staring at him again, his mouth open in shock. Malfoy wasn't done, and he didn't wait for Harry to formulate an answer.

"Not everyone's as lucky as you are," he said. "Not everyone has a place to go where they can find people who care."

Harry remembered his realization on Halloween, and asked tentatively, "Do you have anyone, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's answering laugh was bitter. "If I did, Potter, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Harry felt suddenly insanely, unexplainable protective of the boy who was telling him all of these things. "You have me."

"Do I?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

Malfoy didn't have an answer to that. There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Malfoy took a deep breath. He looked straight at Harry and whispered, "Why did you come?"

Harry knew the deeper meaning hidden in the words: why did Harry claim to care? What was in it for him?

"I came because I want everyone to be as lucky as I am," Harry answered. "And you don't seem to have anyone else."

Malfoy's sigh was proof of Harry's words. "Thank you." Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't ever expected thanks. He'd just been doing it because he felt that he had to. Was it possible that Malfoy realized what it meant and appreciated it? It was almost too much to be real.

"You're welcome," Harry answered. There wasn't really anything else to say.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Harry realized that he wasn't nearly as uncomfortable with the other boy as he'd thought he would be, and he wondered whether that was a good thing or not.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked softly.

"Yes?"

"What… what do you do? When it becomes too much to handle?"

Harry was astonished at the level of vulnerability in the other boy's words. He tried to remember whether Malfoy had ever let down his guard in front of another person before. Well, apart from crying by the lake, but he hadn't realized that he wasn't alone then. Harry wondered how often Malfoy went off on his own to cry like that.

"I talk with my friends," Harry answered. "Well, I yell at them, mostly." He frowned, trying to think. What had he done all the times the world seemed to be collapsing around him? "And I try to push it away, try to ignore it."

"Maybe I should try that next time," Malfoy said dryly.

"You could try the first option," Harry said.

"They key word in that phrase, Potter, was 'friends,'" Malfoy informed him. "I am currently rather lacking in that department."

Harry smiled slightly. "I thought we'd established that I would be your friend," he said.

"So we did," Malfoy agreed. "I will _not_ be your emotional punching bag, I warn you."

Harry shrugged. "You don't have to be," he informed Malfoy. "I'm getting a lot better at not yelling."

"I can't imagine what it was like before," Malfoy said cynically.

Harry grimaced. He glanced at his watch, then gasped as he realized that almost an hour had elapsed. "I think I have to go," he said reluctantly.

Malfoy sighed, then grimaced. Harry guessed that he hadn't meant to let the sigh escape. "I'll come back," Harry assured him. "But if I don't get back to Gryffindor Tower soon, I'll be caught."

"Go on," Malfoy said, suddenly listless. "We wouldn't want you to be caught, now would we?"

"I _will_ come back," Harry insisted.

"Of course," Malfoy agreed.

Harry looked down at him, _really_ seeing him for the first time. He grimaced at what he saw. Why hadn't he seen the naked despair in Malfoy's eyes before? Very deliberately, he reached down and took Malfoy's hand again. Malfoy's eyes widened, and he gasped slightly.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "I promise I won't leave you," he said, not letting go of Malfoy's hand.

Malfoy didn't have an answer to that. Harry hadn't been expecting one. He squeezed Malfoy's hand once more, then let go.

"I'll come back." He reached for his invisibility cloak, pulling it over him until he was completely covered. He crept back to Gryffindor Tower, not even trying to deny what had just happened between him and the boy he no longer hated.


	4. How lucky you are

Not as lucky as you are

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. WARNING: suicide attempts and depressing thoughts and mild swearing. Still pre-slash, unfortunately. We'll get to the real stuff, I promise! This is a parallel story of You have me: same snapshot from Draco's POV.

He didn't know why it should have shocked everyone so much. Was it that, as the Slytherin Prince, he wasn't supposed to have emotions? Was it that he wasn't supposed to resist becoming a Death Eater? But none of them knew him, none of them saw past the mask he wore.

Only Potter seemed to understand. Draco shocked himself by thinking that, just as he'd shocked himself by baring his soul to the other boy at Halloween. Why had he done that? Because Potter knew what it was like. Draco hated to admit it, but Potter was the only student in the entire school who could even begin to understand.

Potter wasn't going to stop him, though, and Draco had made up his mind that he would never be what his father wanted him to be. He'd been under his father's domination for too long, and he wasn't going to stand for it any longer. If the only option was death, he would embrace it willingly.

It had hurt. He couldn't believe how much it had hurt, and he hadn't been brave enough to finish the cuts. Pansy had found him curled up on his bed, still bleeding, with the charmed blade in his hand. She'd screamed, but it hadn't penetrated his pain-number mind. He thought he might have blacked out for a while, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't remember much about what had happened later, though he could guess. Professor Snape had come, and they had transported him to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had fed him potions and bandaged his wrists, and they'd left him to sleep. They shouldn't have.

His mind rang with images of blood and of horror. He hadn't been strong enough to end it all, and now he would have to face the consequences. He wasn't naïve enough to think that his father wouldn't hear about it, and he knew that his father would not be pleased. Malfoys were not supposed to be weak and they were not supposed to fail. Draco had done both.

He lay awake the night afterwards, staring blankly up at the white ceiling. What would he do now? He couldn't face going back to his house, not yet. The best choice would be to try again, to attempt to end it once more, but he wasn't strong enough to try it. It had been hard enough to do it once, and he knew he wouldn't be able to get even this far a second time.

Eventually, he drifted off into a troubled sleep. He walked through a landscape of skulls and Death Eaters, and he looked around in horror at the figures surrounding him. They advanced on him, wands out, eyes glittering coldly. He started running, trying to get away from them, trying to escape the horror in his mind. They advanced upon him, gaining without seeming to move any faster.

Suddenly, he felt someone grasp his hand. The sensation was comforting, spreading warmth through him, and he smiled slightly.

As he smiled, he felt himself waking slightly. A voice drifted through the haze of dreams and slumber. It was quiet, almost hesitant.

"Why did you do it? What could be bad enough to cause you to try something like that?"

"What do you think?" The words came unasked to his lips, causing him to wake completely. He opened his eyes, staring into Potter's shocked face. Draco suddenly realized that Potter probably hadn't wanted him to hear that. He was aware that the feeling of having his hand held hadn't left, and glanced down at his hand. It was in Potter's. Potter followed his gaze, then his face turned a bright red. He pulled his hand away, still blushing amazingly. Draco couldn't keep the mocking smile from his lips at Potter's discomfort.

"What do you mean?"

Draco rolled his eyes. How much guidance did Potter _need_? "You really are quite thick, aren't you Potter?" he asked, realizing that, for once, he didn't mind explaining things. "I mean, my father decided that it was time to be initiated. I have no desire to become like him."

"So you tried to kill yourself?"

Draco shrugged. "I didn't have any other choice."

Potter stared at him. "You always have a choice!" he insisted.

Draco's face hardened. Potter really didn't know _anything_, did he? "_You_, might," he said icily. "Not everyone has your luck, Potter. Remember that." It came out with more harshness than Draco had planned, but what could Potter expect?

The tone of Draco's voice seemed to have made an effect, because Potter flinched horribly. Draco saw him shiver slightly, and felt very slightly ashamed of himself. Potter had to learn, though, and Draco appeared to be the one recruited to teach him.

"I…" Potter began, obviously trying to think of something else to say. Draco suddenly felt much less sorry for him.

"I don't want to hear about how miserable you are at your home," he snarled. "_That's_ not what I was referring to."

"Then, what…?" Draco couldn't believe that Potter still didn't see it. If a boy this thick was the savior of the entire wizarding world, they were all in trouble.

"Here. Hogwarts. Tell me that you don't have friends. Tell me that there aren't people who would do anything for you. For that matter, tell me that you don't always have choices."

Potter was staring at him again, his mouth open in shock. Draco wasn't done, and he didn't wait for Potter to formulate an answer.

"Not everyone's as lucky as you are," he said. "Not everyone has a place to go where they can find people who care."

"Do you have anyone, Malfoy?" Draco winced at the words. How could Potter have known? How did he know how much Draco longed to have someone for him?

His answering laugh was bitter. "If I did, Potter, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"You have me."

Draco stared at him in disbelief. He must have heard wrong! _Potter_, _**Saint**_ Potter, telling Draco that he would be there for him? Something was obviously very wrong, and Draco wasn't sure which of them it was who was crazy. "Do I?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

Draco couldn't find an answer to that statement. It was the truth. Potter had risked detention to come and talk with him, and Draco couldn't forget the genuine concern in the black-haired Gryffindor's voice when he asked why Draco had done it. They stayed in an uncomfortable silence for a long time, both trying to think of something to say. Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Draco whispered, "Why did you come?"

Potter seemed to understand what Draco meant. He took his time answering, obviously choosing his words carefully. Finally, he said, "I came because I want everyone to be as lucky as I am. And you don't seem to have anyone else."

Draco sighed. There wasn't any way to deny Potter's words without lying, and he didn't want to lie. Lying was too easy, and he didn't want this to be easy. Why he cared about making a good impression he couldn't say, but it was very important to him. Therefore, there was only one thing to say. "Thank you."

Potter's eyes widened in shock, and Draco felt a slight tremor of anger run through him. Why did everyone insist on thinking that he was some emotionless robot, some creature who was inhuman? Didn't they understand that Draco was just the same as them? Didn't they realize that he was who they would be if they'd been through what he had? He'd thought that Potter, at least, would have understood that.

"You're welcome." Draco didn't answer that. He didn't know what Potter meant by it, and he wasn't willing to jeopardize their fragile peace with his anger. He might be irritated with the other boy, but he didn't want him to leave. He didn't want to be alone again.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Draco fought the urge to fidget. He hated uncomfortable silences, and Potter seemed all too fond of them. They eyed each other for a long moment, until Draco couldn't bear it any longer. Besides, he needed to ask.

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"What… what do you do? When it becomes too much to handle?"

Draco hated himself for the amount of vulnerability he let slip into the question. He wanted to be strong, wanted Potter to admire his ability to cope. Instead, he'd sounded like a frightened child who was running to his mother.

"I talk with my friends," Harry answered, after giving the question some serious consideration. "Well, I yell at them, mostly." He frowned, obviously trying to think. "And I try to push it away, try to ignore it."

"Maybe I should try that next time," Draco said dryly in an attempt to salvage his pride.

"You could try the first option," Potter pointed out.

"They key word in that phrase, Potter, was 'friends,'" Draco informed him. Hadn't they just been over this? "I am currently rather lacking in that department."

Potter smiled slightly. "I thought we'd established that I would be your friend," he said.

"So we did," Draco agreed, wondering just what he was saying. When had he agreed that Potter was his friend? Potter seemed very taken with the idea, though, and Draco couldn't help thinking that Potter viewed him as yet one more person to save. "I will _not_ be your emotional punching bag, I warn you."

Potter shrugged. "You don't have to be," he informed Draco. "I'm getting a lot better at not yelling."

"I can't imagine what it was like before," Malfoy said cynically, remembering legends of Potter's explosive temper.

Potter grimaced, possibly remembering those same legends. He glanced at his watch, then gasped when he realized what time it was. Draco wondered if he'd exceeded some self-imposed time limit. "I think I have to go," he said. Draco thought that he sounded slightly reluctant, but that could just have been his imagination.

He sighed, then grimaced. He hadn't intended to let his disappointment out like that.

"I'll come back," Potter assured him, seeming to sense Draco's disappointment. "But if I don't get back to Gryffindor Tower soon, I'll be caught."

"Go on," Draco said, suddenly listless. "We wouldn't want you to be caught, now would we?" He tried to shake a sneer into his voice, but he couldn't quite manage it. He was amazed at how much he wanted Potter to stay with him. It was silly, he told himself. Potter felt sorry for him, that was all. They were supposed to hate each other! But Draco didn't hate Potter anymore. They had only had two conversations, but in those two sessions, Draco felt that Potter knew him better than anyone else. He was suddenly unwilling to let that go.

"I _will_ come back," Potter insisted.

"Of course," Draco agreed wearily.

Potter looked down at him, and Draco gaped at the expression in his face. Was it…? It was. Potter was looking at him with affection, with _respect_! When had _that_ happened? Deliberately, Potter reached down and once more clasped Draco's hand in his own. Draco gasped, not so much at the gesture, but at how good it felt.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Potter smiled. "I promise I won't leave you," he said, not letting go of Draco's hand.

Draco didn't have an answer to that, but Potter didn't seem to mind. Obviously Potter could tolerate silence far better than Draco. Instead, he squeezed Draco's hand once more, then let go.

"I'll come back." He reached for his invisibility cloak, pulling it over him until he was completely covered. Draco listened as he made his way out of the infirmary, waiting until the door had clicked shut to let his breath out.

"Damn," he muttered. "Damn you Potter." He'd built walls, and they had been torn down. He was vulnerable again, and he didn't like it. Yet, he wanted Potter to come back, wanted Potter to finish the job of striping his soul bare. Damn Potter indeed.


	5. Did you mean it?

Did you mean it?

Everyone noticed the truce between the two of them that winter. Most people commented in some way, usually by asking Harry if he'd lost his mind. Harry always answered them in the same way: we came to an understanding that does not concern you. Not even Ron and Hermione knew the full story, though that didn't stop Ron from pretending he did. Hermione said very little, but Harry knew she was watching them. He didn't really mind.

He himself was watching Malfoy, trying to see if he could detect the same hints of vulnerability and desire that had peppered their first two conversations. If they were there, then Harry couldn't find them. He sighed. It was getting harder to ignore what he himself was feeling, much as he wished to. When you thought you might be falling in love with a person who used to be one of your worst enemies, it was a bit disconcerting.

Malfoy himself didn't seem to have had a similar revelation, and he continued to treat Harry with the same slightly contemptuous familiarity. Harry wasn't sure if he liked it that way or not.

They spent Christmas at Hogwarts, almost the only students to do so. Most families wanted their children home for the holidays, and the halls of Hogwarts were almost deserted. Harry found that it almost scared him. He was used to the whispers that abounded whenever he passed, and the lack of them disconcerted him more than he realized. Only the fact that he didn't want to impose any more than he already had stopped him from begging Ron's family to take him. They would have agreed, but he felt bad about the amount of time he spent with them. It wasn't as though he could return the favor, after all.

Finally, he couldn't bear it any longer. He needed to know how Malfoy felt, and if he destroyed their budding friendship, so be it. Even that would be better than this agony of not knowing.

"Malfoy?"

The blond boy looked up from his book, his gray eyes registering Harry then dropping back down to the page.

"Did you mean it?"

That got his attention. He carefully slipped a bookmark into the book and turned his full attention to Harry.

"Did I mean what?"

"When you kissed me."

There was no answer. Harry waited impatiently, wishing that Malfoy would just get on with it.

Finally, the blond boy asked, "Do you want me to have meant it?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Wordlessly, he nodded.

"I think I might have," Malfoy admitted.

Harry found his voice at last. "You _think_ you might have?" he demanded. "That's not very confident."

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm not a confident person," he said simply.

Harry stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

Malfoy shook his head.

Harry tried to contain his disbelief. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You _always_ think you're right, even when you're not. That makes you confident in _my_ book."

Malfoy eyed him closely, then sighed. "Sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair next to him. Harry sat. "You wanted the truth, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"You terrify me," Malfoy admitted bluntly.

Harry gaped. "What do you mean?" he managed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry hated how he always seemed in control of himself, even when he was admitting unpleasant truths to them both. Why couldn't he break down sometimes? The only times Harry had ever seen genuine emotion on Malfoy's face and in his words were when they were discussing his parents. They didn't do it much, and Harry soon learned not to ask too many questions.

"You terrify me, Potter. Are you deaf?"

"No. How do I terrify you? I wouldn't have thought that I was _that_ frightening."

Malfoy glanced around to make sure that they were alone. The only other student was a seventh year Hufflepuff, who was so far away that it was unlikely she would hear them. Malfoy sighed. "Why do you think? You're the pride of bloody Gryffindor, the Quidditch hero of the world, the one who fought the Dark Lord before you could talk. Don't you think that's a bit frightening?"

Harry shook his head. "You promised me the truth," he reminded Malfoy. "That can't be the _only_ reason."

"What makes you so sure?"

Harry smiled. "Because I've been watching you. I know there's more to it than that."

Malfoy stared at him. "And just _why_ have you been watching me?" he demanded.

"Tell me why I scare you and I'll tell you why I've been watching you."

Malfoy scowled. "Blackmail is a _Slytherin_ concept, Potter, not a Gryffindor one."

Harry shrugged. "So? I'm still allowed to use it, aren't I?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Not officially."

"Tell that to the Weasley twins," Harry muttered, remembering the episode with Bagman in his fourth year. He ignored Malfoy's questioning glance, and added, "Besides, it's not really blackmail, is it?"

Malfoy didn't answer. Harry raised his eyebrows, waiting for the silence to work its usual magic. He'd realized early on the effect that prolonged silences had on Malfoy, and used it to his advantage. Harry grimaced, thinking that Malfoy would probably think _that_ a Slytherin concept as well. Well, the Sorting Hat _had_ wanted to put Harry into Slytherin, hadn't it?

Finally, Malfoy answered quietly, "When I'm around you, Potter, the world changes. Things are clearer than they were before, and I don't like it. I've worked hard to build my walls, and they crumble the moment I start talking to you. You make me say things that I've never told anyone else, and I don't know why I say them. You make me lose control of my emotions, and I hate that." He shrugged. "You terrify me."

Harry, who hadn't closed his mouth since Malfoy began to speak, made an indistinct sound in his throat, making an effort to pull himself back together. Malfoy was watching him closely, probably waiting for a reaction to his words.

Finally, Harry smiled slightly. He was about to bare his own soul, and he was amazed at how good it felt. "You terrify me too."

Malfoy stared at him. "I do?" he whispered.

Harry laughed. "Of course you do," he answered. He didn't wait for Malfoy's answer, only pulled him into another kiss, wondering how he could ever have ignored Malfoy all this time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Well, here it is: true slash! Though it's not the end of the story. Draco still has personality problems that they still need to work out. At least two more from Harry's POV, which means at least four all together.


	6. You terrify me

You terrify me

It wasn't as though it was _that_ unusual. Surely they couldn't have been the _only_ enemies to become friends over the years! Yet Draco and Potter's budding friendship certainly attracted more attention that winter than anything else Draco could remember, up to and including the Dark Lord. It was very disturbing.

Of course, dirty rumors abounded. Draco learned that he and Potter had had sex over twenty times that winter, mostly in empty classrooms and, once, in the library in plain view of none other than Millicent Bulstrode. Draco hexed her the moment he heard that one, and she hadn't been saying _anything_ since.

It didn't make things any easier when he realized that he wouldn't actually mind Potter having sex with him. He'd shied away from the thought like the plague the first time he'd caught himself thinking it, and had instantly diagnosed himself with borderline insanity. The diagnosis hadn't changed, but he was now more willing to face his own thoughts. He'd always heard that hiding from your own thoughts was one of the worst things you could do, and he supposed that he was doing himself a favor by not doing so.

As Christmas rolled around, Draco realized that, by not going back home, he had condemned himself to two weeks almost alone with Potter. He sighed. Apparently this was his punishment for allowing someone else in. He'd let Potter in too far, and now he would never be able to back out. The only thing he could do was watch Potter to see if Potter felt the same way as he himself did. Potter seemed as oblivious as ever, and Draco protected himself with bitingly sarcastic comments and insults that stung as much as they amused. Well, they amused _him_, at least.

He was in the library, catching up on Christmas homework, when Potter finally caught up with him.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, already knowing who it would be. Of course it was Potter. Draco caught Potter's green eyes, felt himself begin to blush, and hurriedly looked back down at his book.

"Did you mean it?"

That got his attention. He carefully slipped a bookmark into the book and turned his full attention to Potter.

"Did I mean what?"

"When you kissed me."

Draco froze. He stared at Potter, willing those eyes to display emotion, to give him any kind of hint at all. What answer would Potter want? Did he want Draco to have meant it? And what if he had? What would that mean for the two of them?

Finally, he whispered, "Do you want me to have meant it?"

Potter seemed as speechless as Draco had been moments before. He nodded, obviously not trusting himself to speak.

"I think I might have," Draco admitted.

Potter found his voice again. "You _think_ you might have?" he demanded. "That's not very confident."

Draco shrugged. "I'm not a confident person," he said simply. He was amazed at how easy it had become to share things like this with Potter. He knew that, at the beginning of the year, he would have never dreamed of ever admitting that to _anyone_, much less Saint Potter. Now, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Potter stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

Draco shook his head, slightly annoyed. Wasn't he allowed not to be confident? Just because he was a Slytherin didn't mean that he automatically knew all the answers, though, he had to admit, he _did_ know far more of them than most people, Potter included.

Potter was staring at him in astonishment. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You _always_ think you're right, even when you're not. That makes you confident in _my_ book."

Draco eyed him closely, then sighed. He was going to have to reveal it all, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. It was all very well to admit to not being confident, but confessing that it was Potter himself who made Draco not confident was a whole different story. "Sit down," he said at last, gesturing to the chair next to him. Potter sat. "You wanted the truth, yes?"

Potter nodded.

In for a knut, in for a galleon. "You terrify me," Draco admitted bluntly.

Potter gaped, obviously not able to comprehend the words. "What do you mean?" he managed.

Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, did Potter need _everything_ laid out for him?

"You terrify me, Potter. Are you deaf?"

"No. How do I terrify you? I wouldn't have thought that I was _that_ frightening."

Draco glanced around to make sure that they were alone. There was no way he was going to have witnesses for this conversation. It was bad enough that they were having it at all!

The only other student was a seventh year Hufflepuff, who was so far away that it was unlikely she would hear them. Draco sighed, then figured he might as well say it all. "Why do you think? You're the pride of bloody Gryffindor, the Quidditch hero of the world, the one who fought the Dark Lord before he could talk. Don't you think that's a bit frightening?" Well, it was mostly true.

Potter shook his head. "You promised me the truth. That can't be the _only_ reason."

Draco scowled. Potter was apparently sharper than Draco had given him credit for. Shame that that astuteness had to kick in at the one time when Draco didn't want Potter to get it. "What makes you so sure?"

Potter smiled. "Because I've been watching you. I know there's more to it than that."

Draco stared at him. "And just _why_ have you been watching me?" he demanded. It wasn't possible that Potter felt the same way, was it? Well, he _had_ asked…

"Tell me why I scare you and I'll tell you why I've been watching you."

Draco scowled. "Blackmail is a _Slytherin_ concept, Potter, not a Gryffindor one."

Potter shrugged. "So? I'm still allowed to use it, aren't I?"

Draco shook his head. "Not officially." He knew that he was stalling, but what else could he do? He _really_ didn't want to answer Potter's question, and this seemed the best way to get out of it.

"Tell that to the Weasley twins," Potter muttered. He ignored Draco's questioning glance, and added, "Besides, it's not really blackmail, is it?"

Draco didn't answer. Potter simply raised his eyebrows, waiting for Draco to answer. Draco ground his teeth together, determined not to give in this time. He should be able to handle silences! It wasn't as though the silence meant that Potter was waiting to hit him, after all. Still, after a few minutes, he couldn't bear it any longer. He had to talk, had to say _something_ to break the tension caused by the silence of the library.

"When I'm around you, Potter, the world changes. Things are clearer than they were before, and I don't like it. I've worked hard to build my walls, and they crumble the moment I start talking to you. You make me say things that I've never told anyone else, and I don't know why I say them. You make me lose control of my emotions, and I hate that." He shrugged. "You terrify me." He was proud that he had neither allowed his voice to wobble or his face to flush. The words had been spoken coolly, rationally, and the walls hadn't crumbled too much more.

Potter, who hadn't closed his mouth since Draco began to speak, made an indistinct sound in his throat. Draco watched him closely, trying to determine what Potter thought of his answer. After what seemed like far too long, Potter closed his mouth and smiled slightly.

"You terrify me too."

Draco stared at him. "I do?" he whispered. Could it mean…? Did Potter really…?

Potter laughed. "Of course you do," he answered. He didn't wait for Draco's answer, only pulled him into another kiss.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Well, here it is: true slash! Though it's not the end of the story. Draco still has personality problems that they still need to work out. At least two more from Harry's POV, which means at least four all together. This is a parallel story of Did you mean it? Same snapshot, Draco's POV. Why do I need to keep saying this? You're all smart people, you'll figure it out!


	7. Cute together

Cute together

Hermione had said that they looked cute together. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He had never expected to be described as cute, and especially not by his best friend. He supposed that her own recent foray into the world of romance had made her exceedingly soppy. It was the only possible explanation.

Though, come to think of it, Draco _was_ very cute. Not that Harry would ever tell him so, but he found himself watching the blond Slytherin from time to time, marveling at the twist of fate that had brought him here. When had he ever imagined himself and Malfoy – no, himself and _Draco_, mustn't forget the other boy's command to use his first name – together and blissfully in love? A year ago, he would have laughed himself sick at the very idea.

Not, of course, that it was all sweetness and light. Draco was a very irritating person at times, and Harry himself was well aware that he was far from a perfect partner. But, with personality problems set aside for the moment, they really were perfectly happy.

They hadn't yet worked out a foolproof system of seeing each other, but Harry, never one to follow rules, had quickly gotten the Slytherin password in return for the Gryffindor one. To Harry's amazement, the Slytherins were actually far more cooperative that the Gryffindors, and that was where they spent much of their time.

"Hey," Harry greeted Draco, sliding onto the couch next to his love.

"Mm?" Draco asked, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"Aren't you going to look at me?" Harry asked, forcing mock hurt into his voice.

Draco finally looked up, slipping a leather bookmark carefully into the tome. His storm cloud gray eyes swept up Harry's form, lingering on his lips momentarily, before moving up to Harry's own emerald eyes.

"Happy?"

Harry shivered at Draco's voice, feeling the blond's tone resonate and bounce across his heart. "I'd be happier if you kissed me," he breathed.

Draco rolled his eyes in loving irritation. "My, you _are_ demanding, aren't you?" he purred. He reached over and deposited a kiss full on Harry's lips, holding it for a long moment. Then he pulled away, raising his eyebrows. "Better?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"And is that all you wanted?" Draco asked. To Harry's gratitude, he didn't turn back to his book, and his eyes stayed locked with Harry's.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" Harry asked, knowing that he was doing all the work here and not caring.

Draco shrugged. "Do you have anything interesting to say?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Unimaginative, aren't you?" he drawled. "What, you're allowed to drop the flawless comeback on your home territory?"

Draco nodded. "No one cares here," he murmured, grinning slightly. "I'm on top, and Zabini is so far behind me in terms of status that I don't even have to try anymore."

Harry snorted. "So that's all it is here? Status?"

Draco nodded. "Didn't you realize that? You'd think people would have figured it out by now."

"You hide it so well," Harry told him. "After all, it's beneath you to care about such things, isn't it?"

Draco nodded approvingly. "You're learning," he said. "Maybe you would have done well here after all."

Harry grimaced. "Don't say that," he muttered.

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Promise not to tell?"

"Depends on what it is," Draco said warily.

"Promise, or I won't tell."

Draco sighed. "_You're_ hard to please. All right, I promise."

Harry took a deep breath. It was hard to admit this, hard to utter the words that he'd kept silent for so long. "The sorting hat wanted to put me into Slytherin." It came out almost a whisper, the words almost lost as he buried his head in his hands.

Draco's delicate hands touched Harry's, and the blond Slytherin gently lifted Harry's head up to look into his eyes. "Harry, there's nothing wrong with that, you know."

"But… Slytherin!" Harry moaned, forgetting where he was and who he was with.

Draco hadn't, and his quicksilver-gray eyes danced with amusement. "Don't forget where you are," he cautioned. "We're rather proud of our House, you know."

"I… I'm sorry."

Draco laughed. "So that's the big secret," he said, leaning back so that he could look at Harry more fully. He didn't remove his hands from Harry's face as he did so. "Nothing else? No dastardly addictions to sugar quills, or midnight visits to see Moaning Myrtle that I should know about?"

Harry stared at him, grimacing as he process what Draco had said. "_Myrtle_?! You _must_ be joking!"

Draco's grin dripped with malicious pleasure. "She fancies you, you know."

"I know," Harry assured him. "She has since I was twelve." He grimaced, remembering suddenly how she'd accosted him in the Prefect's bathroom during his fourth year. Remembering more thoroughly, his face turned a bright scarlet.

Draco laughed again. "What?" he asked. "Something you're not telling me?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I won't either. You would just get jealous and try to kill her. No one should be killed twice."

Draco's eyes widened momentarily. "You mean…" he trailed off in frustrated horror, preferring just to gawk open-mouthed at Harry.

Harry grimaced. "Nothing happened," he assured the blond boy. "She was just… call it wrong place at the wrong time."

"What did she see?" Draco demanded.

"Me," Harry admitted. "In the bath."

"In the…" Draco's eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. "Are you telling me that you took a bath and let her in?"

"I didn't _let _her in," Harry objected. "She just came!"

Draco shook his head. "Harry, you really _must_ be more careful! Remind me to teach you the proper veiling wards. You never know when they'll pop up, and it's best if you're prepared."

Harry shrugged. He started to say that he didn't mind that much, the closed his mouth firmly. _That_ comment wouldn't be appreciated!

"So, apart from that, do you have any more secrets you want to spill?" Draco asked him, changing the subject somewhat. Harry sighed with relief. That was one of the best things about Draco: he always knew when to drop a subject, unlike Ron and Hermione, who wouldn't drop anything until it was dead and buried. Several times.

"Not that I know of," Harry said. "Why, do you?"

Draco considered. "I can't stand Weasley," he said slowly. "But then, that's no secret. And I think you're cute when you smile."

Harry stared at him. "What?"

Draco shrugged. "You asked me for my secrets," he said. "I gave them to you. Well, one of them. We can't divulge everything all at once, now can we?"

Harry nodded absently, his mind still fixed on Draco's second secret. _I think you're cute when you smile_.

He smiled slightly. "You're cute when you smile too, you know."

Draco preened. "Of course," he agreed. Then his gray eyes changed subtly, drawing Harry into them. "But it's always nice to hear it."

Harry reached across, brushing Draco's hair with the tips of his fingers. "You just have to ask," he murmured, "and I will tell you as many times as you want."

"You could show me instead," Draco suggested, his voice slightly hoarse with anticipation and desire.

"I could," Harry agreed. He crossed the gap between them, brushing his lips against Draco's. Their eyes met, both filled with love, and the two boys, so different and yet so much the same, were united in a moment of perfect understanding.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Pure fluff. The story was getting depressing, and I think it will again, so here is a fluffy, fun interlude, inspired in part by CLAMP and their wonderful manga Cardcaptor Sakura. Toya and Yuki are _sooooo_ amazingly cute! It's absolutely amazing! (As you can tell, I am in what they would call "floaty mode" right now, which is good. I needed a bit of floatiness.)


	8. Cute when you smile

Cute when you smile

All in all, the Slytherins had taken the news that Draco and Harry were officially a couple remarkably well. There had been the inevitable taunts and threats, but those were far fewer than Draco could have hoped for, and they were rapidly quashed with threats of exceedingly nasty hexes. Draco had been the Prince of Slytherin for years now, and he had enough power to get away with just about anything. Including, thankfully, bringing Harry Potter into the Slytherin common room.

He could remember the first time Harry had been inside the common room. The Gryffindor boy had gawked, then grinned slightly, and muttered something about, 'hasn't changed a bit.' Draco chose not to comment.

Naturally, they had their problems. Didn't everyone? Draco was far too afraid to open himself up completely any farther, and Harry had an irritating habit of trying to pry too deep too fast. A few well placed stinging insults had largely cured him of it, but Draco could just tell that he was waiting for his chance.

Then again, compared to what he had expected a year ago, this was as close to heaven on Earth as Draco could imagine. He had a friend and a true love, decent grades, and no immediate threats on his life. His father had even stopped pestering him, though Draco suspected that that was just because Lucius Malfoy had forgotten about him. He refused to think about that: no point looking a gift horse in the mouth and all.

He knew that Harry had entered the common room, but he didn't raise his eyes from his book. He would soon, but it was important to maintain his image, even with the one he loved.

"Hey," Harry's voice was lightly teasing, a warm caress without actual contact.

"Mm?" Draco asked, not looking up from the book he was reading. He was going to make Harry work for this!

"Aren't you going to look at me?" Harry asked, forcing mock hurt into his voice. Draco rolled his eyes and looked up, his gray eyes caressing Harry's form. He slipped a bookmark into the book, meeting Harry's eyes lazily.

"Happy?"

"I'd be happier if you kissed me," Harry said, his eyes boring into Draco's.

Draco rolled his eyes in loving irritation. "My, you _are_ demanding, aren't you?" he purred. Not that he was complaining too hard, mind you. He was just having far too much fun to resist. He leaned across the gap, kissing Harry thoroughly. "Better?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"And is that all you wanted?" Draco asked.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "Do you have anything interesting to say?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Unimaginative, aren't you?" he drawled. "What, you're allowed to drop the flawless comeback on your home territory?"

Draco grimaced. Obviously Harry knew him far too well, and he was using that to his advantage. "No one cares here," he explained, grinning slightly. "I'm on top, and Zabini is so far behind me in terms of status that I don't even have to try anymore."

Harry snorted. "So that's all it is here? Status?"

Maybe he didn't know Draco that well after all. It was a disappointment. "Didn't you realize that? You'd think people would have figured it out by now."

"You hide it so well," Harry told him. "After all, it's beneath you to care about such things, isn't it?"

Draco nodded approvingly. "You're learning," he said. "Maybe you would have done well here after all."

Harry grimaced. "Don't say that," he muttered.

Draco blinked. "What?" Slytherin wasn't _that_ bad! He knew that they had a bad reputation, but _still_!

"Promise not to tell?" Harry's voice was low, almost urgent.

"Depends on what it is," Draco said warily.

"Promise, or I won't tell."

Draco sighed. He wanted to know more than ever now, and a vow of silence was a small enough price to pay. "_You're_ hard to please. All right, I promise."

Harry took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself to spill some great secret. "The sorting hat wanted to put me into Slytherin." He dropped his head into his hands, apparently too ashamed to contemplate looking up.

Draco snorted, repressing the urge to burst out laughing. That was _it_? Harry Potter's greatest secret was that a talking hat had wanted to put him into Slytherin when he was eleven years old? It was almost pathetic. Harry wouldn't appreciate that, though, and Draco could tell that the other boy really _did_ think it was a big deal. He rolled his eyes, then slipped his hands under Harry's and levered the other boy's face up to look at him."Harry, there's nothing wrong with that, you know."

"But… Slytherin!" Harry moaned.

Draco was having a very hard time keeping the laughter from his voice as he cautioned, "Don't forget where you are. We're rather proud of our House, you know."

"I… I'm sorry." Harry sounded truly contrite, and Draco decided to forgive him. After all, he was still technically a newcomer in the House of Snake.

To that end, he changed the subject slightly. "So that's the big secret. Nothing else? No dastardly addictions to sugar quills, or midnight visits to see Moaning Myrtle that I should know about?"

Harry goggled at him, obviously horrified. "_Myrtle_?! You _must_ be joking!"

Draco's grin dripped with malicious pleasure. He still enjoyed taunting Harry, despite their truce, and he couldn't resist. Harry's reaction was making this so much more entertaining than he could have imagined. "She fancies you, you know."

"I know," Harry assured him. "She has since I was twelve." He grimaced, obviously remembering the ghost more clearly. Suddenly, his face turned a bright scarlet, and his eyes dropped down and began a very deliberate study of his hands.

Draco laughed again. "What?" he asked. "Something you're not telling me?" Something worse than Slytherin?

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I won't either. You would just get jealous and try to kill her. No one should be killed twice."

Draco's eyes widened momentarily. "You mean…" he trailed off in frustrated horror, preferring just to gawk open-mouthed at Harry.

Harry grimaced. "Nothing happened. She was just… call it wrong place at the wrong time."

"What did she see?" Draco demanded, more curious than ever and more than a little appalled. What had he been _doing_?

"Me," Harry admitted. "In the bath."

"In the…" Draco was well aware that his Malfoy mask had slipped completely, but he couldn't put it back on. Harry… in the bath… with _Moaning __**Myrtle**_. "Are you telling me that you took a bath and let her in?"

"I didn't _let _her in," Harry objected. "She just came!"

Draco shook his head. Clearly Harry hadn't grown up in a house where the mirrors talked and House Elves could open locked doors. "Harry, you really _must_ be more careful! Remind me to teach you the proper veiling wards. You never know when they'll pop up, and it's best if you're prepared."

Harry shrugged, apparently at a loss for what to say. He started to speak, thought again, decided not to, and closed his mouth firmly. Draco's raised eyebrow went unnoticed, and Draco decided not to pry. After all, if he wanted Harry to stay out of _his_ secrets, it would be best if he did the same.

"So, apart from that, do you have any more secrets you want to spill?" Draco asked him instead, hoping that he would appreciate the sacrifice.

"Not that I know of," Harry said. "Why, do you?"

Draco considered. What could he say? He didn't have that many secrets that he was willing to share, even with Harry. Suddenly, he thought of something. Yes, that would work. He grinned.

"I can't stand Weasley. But then, that's no secret. And I think you're cute when you smile."

Harry stared at him. "What?"

Draco shrugged, slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't one for flowery compliments, and that one had been slightly unexpected. He hoped Harry appreciated it. "You asked me for my secrets," he said. "I gave them to you. Well, one of them. We can't divulge everything all at once, now can we?"

Harry smiled slightly, obviously reading between the lines and accepting, for once, that Draco didn't want to talk. "You're cute when you smile too, you know."

Draco preened. "Of course," he agreed. He _was _a Malfoy, after all. Good looks came with the package. Then again, few people actually said it. Most were far too afraid of him to say anything like that. He realized with a start that, apart from his mother's crooning when he was a child, that was the first compliment he'd ever received. His father didn't believe in them. He decided that he liked it.

"But it's always nice to hear it."

Harry reached across, brushing Draco's hair with the tips of his fingers. "You just have to ask," he murmured, "and I will tell you as many times as you want."

"You could show me instead," Draco suggested, his voice slightly hoarse with anticipation and desire. Compliments were all very well, but this was better. He edged forward slightly, inviting Harry to take him and eager to absorb the other boy in return.

"I could," Harry agreed. They met halfway, their lips touching in a single moment of overwhelming love and desire. Draco met Harry's eyes in that instant, and he was blown away by the depth of love he saw in the black haired boy's emerald gaze. He had never felt this… loved before, and he realized with a start that he wanted more of it. He deepened the kiss, praying as he did so that nothing would ever change.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Yes, it is indeed fluff. I did my best not to include any angst at all, and I hope I succeeded. My floatiness has subsided a bit, but that's all right, considering the next chapters. Parallel of… yeah, you already know all of this. Read and review. Please!


	9. Diamond heart

Diamond heart

Harry knew right away that something was very wrong. It was in the air, a tension that seeped through the Great Hall and rang the alarm bell in his mind. He'd been in trouble far too many times to ignore it now, and he glanced over at the Slytherin table, hoping for clues. He paled when he realized just what was wrong: Draco was missing.

Ron had noticed too, and he sneered, commenting that they were better off without him. Harry just barely repressed the urge to hit him, and stood up from the table, excusing himself. Ron started to protest, but he was cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder. Harry looked up at Hermione, thanking her without words. She only nodded. He sensed that she understood.

He walked out of the Great Hall and down the often tread hallways towards the Slytherin common room. The hall was deserted, and Harry couldn't help feeling as though he were intruding. After all, did he _really_ have a right to be here without Draco?

'You're coming for Draco, aren't you?' he told himself sternly. 'You have as much right to be here as in any other part of the castle. He's your bloody _boyfriend_, for God's sake! Buck up and just go!'

Holding his inner voice's brave words firmly in his mind, he approached the bare spot of wall that was the entrance to the common room and spoke the password. He'd been a bit shocked when Draco had entrusted him with the knowledge of what it was, but after spending far more time in their company than he could have thought possible, he was beginning to realize that it wasn't so far off the mark after all.

The common room was almost deserted; most of the student population of Hogwarts was still at breakfast. Harry looked around, trying to see where Draco could be.

"He's upstairs."

Harry spun, turning to face a smirking Pansy Parkinson. She eyed him scornfully, then indicated a very visible staircase. "Those stairs, Potter."

He scowled at her, then made his way over to the staircase and began climbing. He paused at the first door he encountered, wondering if he could enter it. Finally, he pushed it open, revealing a luxurious bedroom, all done up in green and sliver. Draco wasn't there.

With a sigh, Harry continued climbing the stairs, stopping to check every door he found. Naturally, Draco's was at the very top. He grimaced, then carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Draco was hunched into a ball in the corner, his back to the door. Harry closed it carefully behind him, still making enough noise to alert Draco to his presence. The blond boy turned angrily, fixing Harry with a cold stare that only eased slightly when he realized who it was.

"What do you want?" he snarled, not moving.

"I wanted to see what was wrong," Harry said, taken aback by the venom in Draco's voice.

"I'm fine," Draco said, turning back to the wall. "You can go back now."

"Draco," Harry said hesitantly.

"Go," Draco snapped.

Something inside Harry cracked, and he propped his hands on his fists. "Draco," he warned.

Draco growled softly, then stretched and turned to face Harry properly. Harry could see that he had been crying, but the tears had stopped now and Draco was glaring at him.

For once, the silence affected Harry more than Draco, and he came forward a couple steps, his feet hesitant and his face red with embarrassment. His voice was sure, though, and he knew he couldn't back down. He suddenly realized just why Ron and Hermione wouldn't drop anything: it hurt too much to see a person he cared about suffering.

"Please," Harry said, not daring to come any closer. "Please, Draco. Tell me what it is!"

Draco sneered. "It's nothing that concerns you," he said shortly. "You wouldn't be able to comprehend."

Harry felt his anger rise in his chest. "What do you know about what I can comprehend and what I can't?"

Draco raised his eyebrow mockingly. "I know far more about it than you do," he assured Harry. "Unlike you, _I_ have been paying attention."

Harry glared at him, his rising anger surpassing any lingering pity. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"It _means_," Draco snapped back, leaning forward slightly to glare at Harry more effectively, "that you have a tendency to overestimate your intellectual capacity. I don't. What is wrong right now would be far beyond your powers of comprehension."

Harry stared at him, aghast. This wasn't the Draco he knew! This was _Malfoy_ talking, not Draco! What had happened? Then again, he wasn't exactly being Harry anymore either. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made a final effort. "Please. I want to try. Maybe I'll be able to understand after all. Draco, please…"

Draco's scowl cut his words off before he could run out. His face was stony, and his eyes were cold, colder than Harry could ever remember. When he spoke, his voice could have rivaled the basalisk's ability to petrify people.

"Get out of here right now," he said, and though his voice was quiet and controlled, Harry could hear the slightly ragged edge to it. "Get out and don't come back. You have no idea what it's like, do you? You have no idea how hard it is to bear the weight of my parents' expectations! You think it's all easy money and worthless rewards? I have to be the best at everything, I have to be my father's heir, I have to marry a fucking _girl_, Harry! Can you understand that? Can you understand how much it hurts? No, no you can't because you've never had to deal with it."

"I…" Harry began, his eyes wide and his breath coming in short, painful gasps, almost as though it had been _him_ who'd been crying, not Draco.

"I'm not done yet," Draco interrupted, his eyes still hard. "I can't do this. I can't keep on. I'll get my heart broken, and I can't. It's not worth it."

"What do you mean?" Harry whispered, unable to take in what he was hearing. Not worth it? What was Draco saying? Was he…? Yes, yes he bloody well was! He was stopping their relationship because he was too afraid of his father to keep on! Well, Draco wasn't the only one who could be hard. "Fine," he said shortly, turning to go. "Fine. Be that way, Draco. And when you look back on this time, when you remember how happy we were and how much we hoped for and the amount of love between us, know that it's _your_ fault that it stopped."

Draco looked at him, his eyes emotionless. He nodded once. "Get out Potter," he said once more.

Harry fled, unable to stay there a moment longer. He ignored the mutters from the now populated Slytherin common room, heading as fast as he could walk toward the Gryffindor common room and the sanctuary of his bed. He walked straight past Ginny, not even seeing her frown as he passed. He stalked up the stairs, yanking open the door and stepping into the relative sanctuary of the dormitory. He threw himself onto his bed, yanking the curtains closed and finally allowing his tears to drip freely. Soon, they turned into full-blow sobs, and he cried for the one person he wanted, his stormy-eyed love with the impenetrable diamond heart. Across the castle, a boy with eyes the color of liquid mercury cried for a happiness that could never be.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. Yes, it's angsty. I'm sorry, and I'm sorry that it's so short, but most of this is just Harry's feelings. I'm afraid the next one will be much of the same, though it might be slightly longer. Harry just has to react; Dray needs to be reacted to. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me, and I hope that everyone likes this story!


	10. Emotionless

Emotionless

Draco stared at the letter in his hands, knowing as he did so that this was the thing that would burst his bubble of blissful romance. He held it gingerly, afraid that it might blow up in his face if he looked at it any longer. He didn't need to look at it. The words were imprinted on his brain.

_You are a disgrace to your family and to your name. You have dishonored us with your involvement with Harry Potter, and you will cease all contact with the brat instantly._

It hadn't even been signed. His father didn't have to. Draco knew his tone even through written words, and he trembled in fear and hatred and rage. How _dare_ his father do this to him? How _could_ he ruin even this, the best thing Draco had ever had?

Yet Draco knew that he would do as his father said. He couldn't not. Obeying his father's every wish was far too engrained into him for him to be able to ignore this order. His father would find out, after all, and there would be hell to pay. Draco preferred not to court death when he didn't have to.

He retained enough presence of mind to refuse breakfast, knowing that his mask was too loose to withstand close inspection. It would crumble and he would be left defenseless in the midst of a hostile sea of faces. It was something he very much did not want to face. So he stayed in the dormitory, refusing to come out, despite Pansy's worried calls up the stairs. She wouldn't dare come up, and as long as he didn't answer her, she wouldn't try too hard.

He wondered how long it would be until Harry came. If Harry came. He couldn't quite shake the terrible fear that Harry wouldn't. He dreaded speaking with Harry, and yet he longed to see the other boy. It was all Harry's fault that this was happening to him, yet he couldn't imagine his life without the other boy. In a very short time, Harry had become a fixture in Draco's life.

He heard someone moving around in the common room through the door, and stifled a sigh of relief. It was Harry. Harry was coming to see him. Draco turned away from the door, curling up into a ball, knowing that he was going to have to hurt Harry very badly in a few moments. He would give anything not to have to, but he had no choice. He was too afraid to challenge his father, and he could always disguise his cowardice as an unwillingness to put Harry in danger.

The door was pushed open and Draco heard Harry enter the room cautiously. The door closed behind him, and there was a long moment of awkward silence. Finally, Draco turned, fixing Harry with the angry glare that was necessary if he was going to go through with this.

"What do you want?" he snarled. It hurt more than he'd imagined to speak that way to Harry again, but he had no choice.

"I wanted to see what was wrong," Harry said, almost hesitantly. Draco wasn't surprised. He hadn't been expecting venom, and Draco hadn't given him any leeway.

"I'm fine," Draco said, turning back to the wall. Maybe Harry would just leave and Draco could avoid breaking his heart for a few moments longer. It was almost certainly a vain hope, but he couldn't help it. "You can go back now."

"Draco," Harry said hesitantly.

"Go," Draco snapped.

Harry scowled at him, propping his hands on his fists. "Draco," he warned.

Draco almost moaned. Harry wasn't leaving. Draco would have to hurt him in person, instead of hiding behind a tool like Pansy. Yet again, he was showing his cowardice, but he couldn't help it. For the sake of appearances, he growled, then put a frown on his face and turned to face Harry properly.

Draco was in too much pain to be affected by the silence, and, for once, Harry's ability to withstand them had crumbled. He blushed with embarrassment and took a few halting steps into the room, unsure of what to say. Finally, he murmured, "Please. Please, Draco. Tell me what it is!"

Draco sneered. "It's nothing that concerns you," he said shortly. "You wouldn't be able to comprehend." Anger was good. If he took refuge in anger, he could ignore the pain, and he wouldn't hate himself any more than he already did.

"What do you know about what I can comprehend and what I can't?" Harry snapped, getting angry himself. Draco relaxed slightly. If they were both angry, then he didn't have to worry about hurting Harry. He wouldn't see the effects. He would only see the anger, and he knew how to deal with anger.

To that end, he raised his eyebrow mockingly. "I know far more about it than you do," he assured Harry. "Unlike you, _I_ have been paying attention."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry snapped.

"It _means_," Draco snapped back, leaning forward slightly to glare at Harry more effectively, "that you have a tendency to overestimate your intellectual capacity. I don't. What is wrong right now would be far beyond your powers of comprehension." He was barely listening to what was coming out of his mouth, so intent was he on studying Harry. This might be the last time he could see Harry like this, might be the last time they spoke to each other. His eyes drank Harry in, committing blazing green eyes and unruly black hair to memory. He studied the angle of Harry's cheekbone, knowing as he did so that he would always search for just that angle in any other person he chose. He would never find it, and he would live out his life searching for the one person he couldn't have.

Harry was staring at him, obviously confused, hurt, and angry. Finally, he whispered, "please. I want to try. Maybe I'll be able to understand after all. Draco, please…"

Draco suddenly wanted him to leave. He knew that, if he had to be with Harry even a moment longer, his mask would crumble and he would give in. He would beg Harry to forgive him, and his father would kill them both. He had to grasp at his mask, had to clamp it on as hard as he could and fall completely back into the character that he'd slipped out of so easily.

"Get out of here right now," he said. He could hear himself struggling for control, and hated himself for it. Even his mask wasn't sure that he was doing the right thing. But he had to. He had to say it, and he was in too far to back down now. "Get out and don't come back. You have no idea what it's like, do you? You have no idea how hard it is to bear the weight of my parents' expectations! You think it's all easy money and worthless rewards? I have to be the best at everything, I have to be my father's heir, I have to marry a fucking _girl_, Harry! Can you understand that? Can you understand how much it hurts? No, no you can't because you've never had to deal with it." He was breathing hard by the end, almost convinced that he believed the words spewing from his mouth.

"I…" Harry began, his eyes wide and his breath coming in short, painful gasps. He was staring at Draco as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and Draco knew that he couldn't allow Harry to speak. Not now. He had to go on, had to finish it, had to make Harry hate him enough to leave and to never come back.

"I'm not done yet," Draco interrupted, his eyes still hard. "I can't do this. I can't keep on. I'll get my heart broken, and I can't. It's not worth it."

"What do you mean?" Draco could see Harry working it out in his mind. Harry's face underwent a series of expressions, from bewildered to confused to horrified to furious. Draco knew what Harry was thinking. He was thinking that Draco was a coward, and he was right. Draco _was_ a coward, but there wasn't much that could change that.

"Fine," Harry said shortly, turning to go. "Fine. Be that way, Draco. And when you look back on this time, when you remember how happy we were and how much we hoped for and the amount of love between us, know that it's _your_ fault that it stopped."

Draco looked at him, his face an emotionless mask. He had to hide the tears in his heart, had to protect the image of himself that he was portraying. He nodded once. "Get out Potter," he said once more.

Harry left, stalking out of the room and down the stairs, presumably to go and find the Weasley girl and snog her senseless. Draco had seen the way she looked at him, had seen the way he'd started looking back. Silently, he wished Harry luck. Harry deserved someone better. He deserved someone who wasn't too afraid to go on, someone who had the courage to stand up for what they loved. Draco wasn't that person. He knew it perfectly well, and yet he couldn't stop hating Harry for leaving. Why hadn't Harry stayed? Why hadn't he insisted long enough for Draco's mask to crumble?

It wasn't Harry's fault, but Draco preferred blaming Harry to realizing that it was inevitable. As he looked out through the open door, long after Harry's form had vanished down the stairs, Draco cursed his father. He cursed his father for making himself who he had become, and he cursed himself for being weak enough to succumb. Slowly, with something that was almost dignity, Draco Malfoy fell back onto his bed, tears streaming down his face as he cried for the boy he had been before his father rendered him emotionless. Draco cried for the boy he had been only the day before, and he cried for the boy he would become. And, across the castle, a boy with raven hair cried for the love he had lost.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. I'm sorry that it's so angsty. Unfortunately, the next pair of chapters are about the same, though I promise they end happily. (Then again, since I write angst better than fluff, maybe that's fortunate). Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me, and I hope that you all like the story!


	11. Demons of yesterday

Demons of yesterday

Harry stepped out of the bathroom, realizing with a start that the corridor leading towards Gryffindor Tower was no longer empty. He frowned, extinguishing his wand and taking a few steps towards the hunched figure in the corner. He stopped, listening. Was whoever it was… crying?

He stepped even closer, then stopped dead as he realized just who it was. It wasn't possible! He quietly pinched himself, convinced that he was having some kind of déjà vu. It was so eerily familiar, and yet so different. Now, there much more than just hatred between Harry and the boy crouched before him. Slowly, he knelt down, his green eyes intent on the trembling form of Draco Malfoy.

It had been more than two months since Draco had spoken those words to him, over two months since Harry's world had crumbled yet again. He'd gone back full of bitterness, and it had taken days for him to even begin to function normally again. To his irritation and fury, Draco didn't seem to have taken it nearly as badly. He was back in class the next day, giving some fanciful excuse for his absence and reclaiming his spot as the Prince of Slytherin. Harry had spent days raging at the world, unable to concentrate and hating everyone and everything for the predicament he found himself in.

Slowly, Ron and Hermione had drawn him out of himself. They'd given him homework and support, and he had finally returned to a semblance of his old self. It wasn't the same, but then, how could it be the same? He'd lost the one thing he cared about more, and there was no way he could change it. It was best just to move on and do his best to return to normal.

And now he was back at the beginning, back to watching Draco cry in a place where he thought he was alone, back to being afraid to talk to the other boy.

He couldn't just stand there, couldn't just watch this demonstration of abject misery. Gently, almost fearfully, he put a tentative hand on Draco's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked, lowing his voice so that it was almost, but not quite, a whisper.

Draco looked up at him, silver eyes wet with tears. He tried to put a scowl on to his face, tried to tell Harry to get out of the way, but another sob stopped him. He buried his face in his hands, his too-thin body shaking with the effort of crying so hard.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, cursing himself for not noticing this sooner. Why hadn't he noticed that Draco was losing weight he couldn't afford to lose? Why hadn't he noticed the dark shadows under Draco's eyes. He'd been so preoccupied with his own misery that he hadn't noticed anything else. He was a fool.

"Shh," Harry whispered into Draco's hair. "Shh, it'll be all right."

"No it won't," Draco gasped, his eyes coming up to meet Harry's for an instant, then dropping back down. "It'll never be all right."

"Why not?"

"Because you're here."

Harry frowned, not loosening his hold on Draco's body. "What do you mean?"

Draco looked straight at him at last, his tear-soaked eyes overflowing as he said, "You're the problem. Without you, none of this would be happening."

"I don't understand."

Draco snorted. The sound relieved Harry more than he'd thought possible. Finally, here was a sign of the old Draco, the one who never cried and who could take anything. "Yes you do. Think about it for a while."

Harry's frown deepened as he racked his brains. Suddenly, it dawned on him, and he felt like an even bigger fool.

"Your father?"

Wordlessly, Draco nodded.

Harry's arms closed more tightly around Draco. "I won't let him hurt you," he vowed.

Draco snorted again. "You won't have much say," he said. "Not that it'll matter."

"What do you mean?"

Draco's eyes held infinite sadness in them as he gazed at Harry. "You can't stay here, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because it will never work between us."

"But… but why? I mean… do you still…" Harry trailed off, staring at the blond boy in confused horror.

Draco made an effort to smile. It failed, but he tried anyway. "Yes, I still love you," he assured Harry. "That's just the problem. If I didn't still love you, this wouldn't hurt so damn much."

"But…"

Draco shook his head. "Listen to me." He'd gotten his tears under control now, though he made no effort to slip out of Harry's embrace, and his voice was stronger than it had been. "We can't keep doing this. Both of us are in too much danger. We can't afford to be distracted, either of us, and we don't need liabilities. That's what I would be to you Harry, a liability. I would slow you down, would give you another thing to worry about. You don't need that. You can't afford that. _I_ can't afford that."

Harry felt tears start to prick his own eyes as he realized just what Draco was doing. He was trying to get rid of Harry again. Harry clenched his teeth, willing his eyes not to make more tears. He _wouldn't_ cry, not even over Draco! He wouldn't allow himself to! Slowly, he counted in his head, giving himself time to get his emotions under control. "Draco."

"I…" It was Harry's turn to cut Draco off.

"No, you listen. Nothing is more important to me than you are, do you understand? I'll give up _anything_ for you, and you can't just ditch me like this! If you don't…" he took a deep breath, willing himself to say it, "if you don't love me anymore, then that's one thing, but I won't leave you because you're too afraid. You're better than that. _I'm_ better than that."

Draco was staring up at him, obviously struggling against his own emotions. Finally, he said, very quietly, "You're a fool, Harry Potter."

Without knowing why he did so, Harry smiled slightly. "Yes," he agreed. "But you wouldn't love me if I wasn't."

Draco conceded to this point with a nod. He looked at Harry, their eyes meeting at last. "It won't be easy," he warned. "Both of us have far too many enemies for it to be easy."

Harry shrugged. "When has my life ever been easy?" he demanded.

Draco's answering smile was slightly crooked. "True," he agreed. "But this will be harder than most things."

Harry smiled back. "I'm willing to try," he assured Draco.

Draco nodded, biting his lip. Harry suspected that he was fighting to stop from crying again. He didn't say anything, giving Draco the time he needed to get his emotions under control. Finally, Draco whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry whispered back. Seeing that Draco had stopped crying for the moment, he started to edge away, but Draco stopped him.

"Please… not yet."

Harry nodded, scooting back towards Draco. Finally, the blond boy put his arms around Harry, resting his head against Harry's collarbone. Harry's hand reached up and gently touched Draco's hair, running his fingers through it almost reverently. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed just _being_ with Draco until he could suddenly do it again.

Draco seemed to feel the same way, because he murmured, "I love you." It was so quiet that Harry could hardly hear it, but he was certain of what he heard.

He bent down, so that the tip of his nose barely brushed Draco's hair and whispered back, "I love you too."

Draco didn't respond, and the two boys sat there for a long time, holding each other, content that things had returned to the way they were meant to be. It didn't matter that they would face problems in the future, didn't matter that both boys had been betrayed far too often to be comfortable giving their hearts away any longer. For those scant hours, they were contented, basking in the mutual comfort of love, ignorant of how the demons of yesterday would sneak up and poison tomorrow.

_Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. No less angsty, but it ends on a slightly happier note. I'll have to see if I'm going to write two or four more parts, as I'm not sure yet. I could do it either way, though the last few sentences make it more likely that there will be four. Lucky you._


	12. These masks we wear

These masks we wear

It had been more than two months since the letter, more than two months since that awful day when Draco had had to fight to keep his ask in place and tell Harry to leave. Draco had gradually regained the appearance of normality, trying his mask in place with cords made of blood and of tears. The tears he never allowed anyone to see. It had been drilled into him that boys – especially Malfoy boys – didn't cry, and the lessons learned the hard way were slow to leave.

He supposed that he should have realized it wouldn't be so easy. There would be days, sometimes weeks of normality, during which he allowed himself to hope that he would be alright in the end, and then something would remind him and he would lose all control. He did his best to maintain at least the appearance of being fine, and, from the few glances he allowed himself, Harry was doing the same. Or maybe Harry really was fine. Draco couldn't tell anymore, and he lacked the strength to try and figure it out. After all, what if he didn't like the answer?

It had been almost two weeks since his last breakdown, and he had hoped – prayed even – that they were over for good. He should have known better. It had begun innocently enough with a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of messy raven hair. Of course it was Harry. No one else in the entire school had hair quite like that. Draco remembered the times he'd run his hands through that hair and felt a small ball of despair start to rise inside him. He shouldn't have stayed. He should have known that any more would cause him to lose control. But he didn't. He stayed and watched as Harry passed, stayed and watched as Harry laughed at something Granger said, stayed and watched as Harry looked right through Draco and didn't even change expression.

It was then that Draco realized that he wasn't nearly as fine as he'd hoped.

To preserve his pride, he'd managed to wait until after the feast to creep away and find a place where he could be alone. Anywhere in the Slytherin dungeons was out: people would find him there, no matter how hard he tried to hide. Outside was off limits due to the recent Death Eater attacks. All students had to have permission to leave the school at any time, no matter what the reason was, and Draco didn't have an invisibility cloak. His only choice was one of the deserted corridors. It was only his luck that this particular corridor wasn't actually deserted.

He hadn't realized that someone else was there, so wrapped up was he in his own misery. Instead, he sank down, bringing his knees close and letting the emotions take control of him. He felt the sobs begin, and he didn't do anything to hinder them. Better that they take him here, where no one could see. Except that someone could see.

A part of Draco's brain registered the movement to his left, but his consciousness paid it no attention. It was only when he felt someone put a hand on his shoulder and whisper, "What's wrong?" that he looked up and realized that he hadn't been alone after all.

Draco looked into Harry's emerald eyes, trying desperately to think of a good explanation. He tried to scowl, tried to protect his image, but he couldn't. He could only look down again, and hope that the desperation he felt wasn't evident to the boy crouching beside him.

It was. Harry moved a little closer and put his arms around Draco, pulling the blond Slytherin into his embrace. Draco couldn't help relaxing into it, and he cursed himself even as he reveled in the contact. He knew that he couldn't turn Harry away again, knew that he wouldn't be strong enough to say no a second time, and he knew that, in not telling Harry to leave, he was dooming them both.

"Shh," Harry whispered into Draco's hair. "Shh, it'll be all right."

"No it won't," Draco murmured, trying to tell Harry just why it wouldn't be all right, trying to convey just why it was all wrong. His gray eyes lifted up to Harry's for a fraction of a second, then fell back down to his lap. "It'll never be all right."

"Why not?" That was most definitely Harry, always confused, always needing things spelled out for him. Any doubts that Draco might have had as to this being a dream evaporated.

"Because you're here." It seemed so simple. Why couldn't Harry understand?

But he couldn't. He frowned, still holding Draco tightly. "What do you mean?"

Draco restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked straight at Harry, trying to make the other boy understand. "You're the problem. Without you, none of this would be happening."

"I don't understand."

Draco did snort then. This was extreme, even for Harry. "Yes you do. Think about it for a while."

Draco could see Harry struggle to concentrate, and he mentally urged Harry on. It wasn't _that_ hard to figure out, after all!

Suddenly, Harry's face cleared, and Draco knew that he'd figured it out at last. Sure enough, "Your father?"

Wordlessly, Draco nodded.

Harry's arms tightened convulsively, and his voice was tinged with the despair of one who knows that his words won't make a difference but knows that he has to say them anyway. "I won't let him hurt you."

Draco snorted again. Harry was a fool if he thought he could protect either of them from the wrath of Lucius Malfoy. Still, Draco felt a slight warmth in his belly as he realized how much Harry cared. It didn't change anything, but it was nice to know. "You won't have much say," he said. After a moment, he added, "Not that it'll matter."

"What do you mean?"

Draco knew that he had to try, knew that he had to at least make a token effort to keep Harry safe. "You can't stay here, Harry."

"Why not?" Draco didn't know whether to hit him or whether to hug him. Why did he have to be so dense? Wasn't it obvious? Then again, if he'd just accepted Draco's words without question, he would have left and Draco would have been even more broken than before.

"Because it will never work between us."

"But… but why? I mean… do you still…" Harry trailed off, staring at the blond boy in confused horror. Draco had to reassure him on that. How could Harry even _think_ that Draco didn't love him?

'You left him,' a voice in his head whispered nastily. Draco ordered it to shut up. Surely Harry realized why he'd done it!

He made an effort to smile as he looked at Harry. "Yes, I still love you. That's just the problem. If I didn't still love you, this wouldn't hurt so damn much."

"But…"

Draco shook his head. "Listen to me." He bit his lip, determined not to start crying again. He'd cried too much lately, and this was too important for tears. He knew that they would just distract Harry from his words, and both boys needed to hear them. "We can't keep doing this. Both of us are in too much danger. We can't afford to be distracted, either of us, and we don't need liabilities. That's what I would be to you Harry, a liability. I would slow you down, would give you another thing to worry about. You don't need that. You can't afford that. _I_ can't afford that."

Draco could see the effect that this was having on Harry, and he held his breath, wondering if Harry would accept it. Did Draco want him to? He didn't know anymore. He wanted Harry to be safe, but he wanted Harry for himself. The two weren't compatible. It would be one or the other, and both outcomes would leave Draco broken. Finally, Harry whispered, "Draco."

"I…" Draco had to explain more, had to wipe the hurt from Harry's eyes, but Harry didn't let him.

"No, you listen. Nothing is more important to me than you are, do you understand? I'll give up _anything_ for you, and you can't just ditch me like this! If you don't…" he took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself, "if you don't love me anymore, then that's one thing, but I won't leave you because you're too afraid. You're better than that. _I'm_ better than that."

He wasn't going to leave. Draco didn't have the strength to argue with him any more about this, and Harry was far too stubborn to leave without a good reason. Finally, Draco whispered, "You're a fool, Harry Potter."

Harry smiled slightly. "Yes," he agreed. "But you wouldn't love me if I wasn't."

Draco conceded to this point with a nod. He looked at Harry, their eyes meeting truly at last. "It won't be easy," he warned. "Both of us have far too many enemies for it to be easy."

Harry shrugged. "When has my life ever been easy?" he demanded.

Draco's answering smile was slightly crooked. It seemed to come more easily than his earlier attempt, and he knew that he was finally getting his emotions back under control. "True," he agreed. "But this will be harder than most things."

Harry smiled back. "I'm willing to try," he assured Draco.

Draco nodded, biting his lip to stop it from trembling at the naked emotion in Harry's words and in his eyes. He had just proclaimed to himself that his emotions were under control, and this was not the time to prove himself wrong. Finally, when he was sure that he wouldn't burst back into tears, he whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry whispered back. He started to edge away, maybe to give Draco space. Draco couldn't help clinging to him. He needed Harry's presence, needed the physical reassurance that he hadn't dreamed it all. It seemed too good to be real, and Harry was the only thing that reminded him that it was.

"Please… not yet."

Harry nodded and scooted back. At last, Draco's arms came around Harry, and he leaned over, resting his head on Harry's collarbone. He felt Harry's heartbeat through the other boy's clothes, and it gave him yet more solid reassurance. He felt it thrum through his entire being as Harry's fingers started playing absently with his hair. He wondered how he could ever have dreamed that he could let something like this go.

It was suddenly vitally urgent that Harry know what he was thinking. Without knowing quite why he did it, he raised his head slightly, uttering the words that had never been spoken between them up to that moment. "I love you."

Harry's breath caught slightly, and he bent his head so that it just barely brushed Draco's hair. Ever so softly, he murmured, "I love you too."

Draco didn't respond to that. There wasn't anything to say. Instead, he sat there, allowing Harry to hold him and holding Harry in return. He felt the wounds in his heart begin to think about mending themselves, and he smiled very slightly. He didn't know what to think of the path that Harry had chosen – the path that they _both_ had chosen – but he knew that there was no turning back. He would face whatever the future held together with Harry, and they would fight their separate demons together. Always together.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. More angst, but this time it has a happy ending. Now that I think about it, it's weird how I seem to be the only one who empathizes with Draco. Maybe it's because I'm the one writing this, so I'm inside his head and his life, but people have told me that they feel sorry for Harry because he has to deal with Dray. I think that this is complete nonsense personally, but then, I know what's going to happen and you don't.


	13. Because I love you

Because I love you

Ron had looked horrified when Harry told him that he and Draco were together again; Hermione had only looked resigned. Harry suspected that his friend had known that it was only a matter of time, and the grin that she gave him later that evening when Draco passed was proof of that. Harry realized, not for the first time, that Hermione had far more than book smarts in her head.

The two of them continued to tiptoe around the issue of Draco's family for most of the rest of the year. Harry had no desire to have Draco break down again, and Draco seemed to have the same idea. After all, as long as it wasn't necessary, they didn't have to attract the demons, right?

Harry knew deep down that they were living on borrowed time, but he couldn't bring himself to care overmuch. As far as he was concerned, he'd always been living on borrowed time, so this wasn't any different.

Unfortunately, this particular loan had a very definite ending: the end of the school year. Both knew that they would have to be separated then, and neither was willing to admit how afraid he was of the time. Only the fact that they spent more and more time together, and that that time was tinged with despaired longing as well as passion indicated that they thought about it at all.

Finally, though, they couldn't sidestep it any longer. It was Harry who finally brought it up, one night when the two of them were alone atop the astronomy tower, looking out at the darkened grounds. The lake shone with a silvery glow, giving it even more the appearance of being haunted. Harry remembered how it had called to him on Halloween and thought that, just maybe, it might be. After all, they _were_ at Hogwarts. Anything was possible.

"Draco?"

Draco glanced at him. "Mm?"

Harry took a deep breath. He didn't want to ruin the mood that they'd achieved that night, but he knew that, unless he spoke now, he wouldn't ever be able to. "What are you… I mean… have you thought about this summer?"

Draco stiffened, the atmosphere between the two of them instantly tensing until it was almost tangible. "Why do you ask?" he asked finally, his voice stiff and obviously tightly controlled.

Harry took another deep breath. He was in it, and he couldn't back out now. "I… you know that I'll have to go back to my aunt and uncle's house, and you…"

"And I'll go to my father," Draco finished. "Yes, I know that quite well."

"Then… um… have you thought about… well, us?"

Draco sighed. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes I have. And… and I don't know. That's all I have to tell you."

Harry resisted the urge to draw Draco closer. The blond boy needed space, and Harry was yet again the reason why he needed it. He doubted that Draco would appreciate his touch at the moment.

"I don't want it to be over," Harry said, surprising himself at the intensity of his tone. "I wasn't lying to you when I said that I would give anything for you. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

Draco smiled, though it was tinged with melancholy. "You'll try," he corrected. "But I doubt there's much you could do."

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed in exasperated irritation. "Harry, what do you think you could do against my father? He's three times as old as you are, a powerful wizard, _and_ he has allies who are as powerful as he is."

"I'm not power_less_," Harry objected, slightly stung.

"You're not," Draco agreed. "But you still don't stand a chance."

Harry sighed, knowing that Draco was probably right. After all, he _had_ lived with Lucius Malfoy for his entire life before coming to Hogwarts. Harry assumed that he knew what he was talking about. Still, he couldn't accept that there was _nothing_ he could do. The same impulse that had made him share the Triwizard Cup with Cedric and charge into the Ministry for Sirius was telling him that he couldn't just sit by and watch passively as their relationship fell apart. He'd lost far too much over the last several years to willingly risk this.

"There must be _something_ that we can do," he argued.

Draco sighed. "Harry," he said wearily. "Please, just drop it. I… you know that I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Then why don't you accept that if anything happens to _you_ it happens to me?" Harry demanded, desperate to get his point across. Why couldn't Draco understand that? Was it that complicated of a concept? Harry wouldn't have thought so, but Draco couldn't grasp it to save his life.

"It's not the same," Draco said, proving Harry's point. "You need to be alive and safe, Harry. Don't you realize just how important you are in the scheme of things? _You're_ the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort," Harry cut in firmly. Draco winced.

"Harry…"

Harry shook his head. "If you don't call him by his name, then he gets more power over you. Call him Voldemort."

Stubbornly, Draco shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

Harry took his hand, holding it firmly. "You can," he said fiercely. "Just close your eyes and say it."

Draco took a deep breath. Hesitantly, he closed his eyes. For along moment, nothing moved. Then, he opened his mouth and whispered, "V… Voldemort."

Harry grinned. "There you go," he said proudly. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"

Draco opened his eyes, and Harry was surprised at the level of triumph in the other boy's liquid-mercury gaze. "No," he said. More firmly, "No it wasn't." He grinned back at Harry. Then, his expression smoothed back into a look of concern. "But it doesn't change things, you know. You're _still_ the only one who can defeat him."

Harry sighed. They were back to that, were they? "I can't do it by myself," he argued. He realized suddenly that he'd never told Draco the contents of the prophecy that he'd smashed in the Department of Mysteries. He wondered if he should. If, as Dumbledore said, the power that Harry had and Voldemort didn't was the ability to love, then Draco had to know. After all, surely it was Draco's love that would help Harry. Besides, Harry owed it to the blond boy to tell him the truth.

"Do you know why I went to the ministry in June?" he asked.

Draco looked surprised. "No," he admitted. "I always assumed it had to do with the… with Voldemort, but I don't know the real reason."

Harry sighed, only just now realizing just how much he would have to explain. It wasn't just the prophecy. It was his connection with Voldemort and the visions and… and Sirius. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for it. Over the last year he'd done his best to move on, had done his best to convince himself that Sirius was happier where he was now, but it didn't always help. It was only by concentrating on other things that he managed not to dwell on it constantly, and telling Draco, not only how he'd died, but how it had been Harry's fault was certain to produce a reaction.

He had to do it, though, and he told himself just to get it over with. "It's actually kind of complicated. Remember in the third year, when there was all the fuss about Sirius Black?"

Draco nodded, obviously confused, but giving Harry time to get his thoughts together. "At the end of that year, we met. He was innocent, Draco!" It was vital that Draco understand that straight away. "He didn't do it!"

"Then who did?"

"A man named Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, his voice full of loathing. "Otherwise known as Wormtail."

Draco's eyes widened. "_Him_?" he demanded.

Harry nodded. "Anyway, Hermione and I helped Sirius escape, and he went… somewhere safe. Then, last year, I started getting visions of the Department of Mysteries."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Even in the midst of his emotional turmoil, Harry was gratified to finally hear that phrase come out of Draco's mouth. He'd said it far too often, and it was quite satisfying to hear Draco saying it for once. "From Voldemort," he clarified. Unconsciously, his hand went to his scar. "Through this." Seeing that Draco was about to ask more, he shook his head. "I don't know how," he said. "It just happens. Anyway, during the History of Magic OWL, I had a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius. I rushed off to save him, only to find that he wasn't there. It was a trap." He heard the bitterness in his voice, but didn't make any effort to contain it. "They came and asked for a prophecy. One about Voldemort and me. Sirius and… and others, came to rescue us, and Sirius was killed."

Draco's eyes widened. "I had no idea," he whispered. Harry hadn't let go of Draco's hand, and now the blond boy squeezed Harry's. Harry smiled at him, though it was more than a little shaky.

"It gets worse," Harry said grimly. "Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said. It got smashed, by the way. Anyway, basically, it says that I have to kill Voldemort or he has to kill me. And then it goes on to talk about my having a power that Voldemort doesn't."

Draco looked at him in horror. "What?" he managed finally.

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore says that it's love," he said.

"Love?"

Harry nodded.

"How will that help?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he admitted.

Draco frowned suddenly. "Harry," he asked, a little hesitantly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I love you," Harry said. Wasn't it obvious?

"But…"

"If Dumbledore's right, then presumably you'll help me defeat Voldemort," Harry said. "I don't know how, but, if he's right, that has to be it."

"Me?"

"Who else?" Harry's voice trembled slightly as he whispered. "Will you?"

"I…" Draco looked at Harry, obviously confused and bewildered. "Yes."

Harry drew him into a fierce hug, needing physical reassurance as well as words. Draco clung to him just as tightly, and they sat there for a very long time.

The last day came at last, as Harry and Draco had known it would have to. They still hadn't resolved anything, but there was no more time. There would be no more kisses in shadowed corners this year, no more long talks under the stars. It was over for the year.

Harry wanted to believe that it wasn't over forever. He _had_ to believe it. If he let himself think that it would be all over, then he wouldn't make it to next year. He clung to his image of Draco telling him that he would be there for him and told himself that it would all happen. It had to happen.

Still, as he stepped off the Hogwarts Express with Draco, both looking around for their respective families, he couldn't help feeling as though he were losing everything yet again. He spotted the Dursleys, scowling horribly at him, and sighed. He would rather just stay with Draco, but he knew that he had to go back to that house, knew that he had to accept it as his home for his mother's charm to keep working.

He took one last long look at Draco before leaving, keeping the image of the other boy's parting smile vivid in his mind's eye as he submitted himself once more to his relatives' tender mercies.

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. This didn't turn out at all how I wanted it to. It was supposed to be a chapter about Harry promising Draco to be there for him when he broke the news to his father. Clearly, they had other ideas, and now I'll have to rethink the sequel. It'll come, though. Don't worry. The story isn't finished yet, after all!


	14. Yes

Yes

It hadn't been hard at all to slip back into being a couple. Draco had almost been scared at how easy it had been. He was used to depending only on himself, and to be so tied into another person was something he wasn't used to. At least it was Harry. Harry understood, and he was very good about giving Draco space. Draco didn't know how to tell him how grateful he really was, but he knew that Harry knew.

He did his best not to think of the upcoming summer. He had always hated summers, though this year was worse than usual. The promise of what his father would do to him was enough to quash any happiness that classes were over. He would rather take exams every day than spend any more time than he had to with his father.

Harry either didn't understand that, or he understood it all too well. Judging from what Draco knew about Harry's own home life, he suspected the former. Either way, they didn't talk abut the upcoming summer at all. Instead, they spoke of innocent things and did their best to pretend that nothing would ever change.

Draco knew that it couldn't last, but he didn't care. When had anything he ever cared about lasted? He'd learned to take what was offered while it was offered and move on when they left. Unfortunately, this was proving much harder to leave behind than anything else. He'd tried before, and it had almost destroyed him from the inside. He wasn't sure that he would be strong enough to last a second time.

Even so, he couldn't bring himself to actually say anything to Harry about it. Harry would think him weak and why did Harry need a weak partner? Frankly, Draco was amazed that Harry was still with him. He would have expected Harry just to leave the first time he caught Draco crying.

In the end, it was Harry who brought the subject up. Draco wasn't sure whether to thank him or to shake him, but he couldn't help being grateful that it was out in the open at last.

"Draco?"

"Mm?"

Harry seemed as uncomfortable with the subject as Draco himself, but he was brave enough to say it out loud. "What are you… I mean… have you thought about this summer?"

Draco stiffened at the question, knowing that he had to answer and hating the answer he had to give. "Why do you ask?" It was nothing more than a time wasting question, nothing more than a way to buy enough time to think of a better answer.

Harry took a deep breath before answering. Draco was slightly relieved to realize that Harry was as uncomfortable with the subject as he was. "I… you know that I'll have to go back to my aunt and uncle's house, and you…"

"And I'll go to my father," Draco finished. "Yes, I know that quite well."

"Then… um… have you thought about… well, us?"

Draco sighed. He would have to tell the truth, and he grimaced at the answer he would have to give. "Yes. Yes I have. And… and I don't know. That's all I have to tell you."

Draco could see Harry looking at him oddly, and fought a rising blush. It wasn't _his_ fault that he didn't know! If Harry wanted to blame anyone he could blame Draco's father! Finally, Harry spoke, his voice low and intense, his green eyes boring into Draco's gray ones.

"I don't want it to be over. I wasn't lying to you when I said that I would give anything for you. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

Draco smiled, his expression sad and slightly patronizing. Harry really didn't know anything, did he? "You'll try," he corrected. "But I doubt there's much you could do."

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed in exasperated irritation. They were back to this, were they? Why did he need _everything_ explained to him? "Harry, what do you think you could do against my father? He's three times as old as you are, a powerful wizard, _and_ he has allies who are as powerful as he is."

"I'm not power_less_," Harry objected. Draco thought he could detect the hurt pride in Harry's voice and grimaced. Harry really _was_ naïve, wasn't he?

"You're not. But you still don't stand a chance."

Harry sighed again, and Draco realized that he'd finally accepted that Draco was right about this. For some reason, that didn't make him as happy as he'd thought it would. Maybe it was the fact that, in hearing someone else accept that they couldn't fight his father, it made Lucius Malfoy into an even greater demon. Draco, who had lived with the man his entire life, knew exactly what his father was capable of and had stopped underestimating him years ago. Still, hearing Harry insist that he could take Draco's father on had kept Draco's fear of his father slightly in check. Now that Harry had admitted defeat, much of Draco's terror returned. He had to fight to keep himself from shivering, and concentrated instead on listening to Harry's words.

"There must be _something_ that we can do."

Draco sighed. When would he give up? "Harry," he said wearily. "Please, just drop it. I… you know that I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Then why don't you accept that if anything happens to _you_ it happens to me?" Harry demanded.

"It's not the same," Draco said. "You need to be alive and safe, Harry. Don't you realize just how important you are in the scheme of things? _You're_ the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort," Harry cut in firmly. Draco winced at the name, remembering the one time he'd been foolish enough to utter it out loud. He still wasn't comfortable with hearing Harry say it so easily.

"Harry…"

Harry shook his head. "If you don't call him by his name, then he gets more power over you. Call him Voldemort."

Stubbornly, Draco shook his head. "I can't," he whispered. His father would _kill_ him!

Harry took his hand, holding it firmly. "You can," he said fiercely. "Just close your eyes and say it."

Draco took a deep breath. For Harry, he would try. Hesitantly, he closed his eyes, fighting to get over his instinctive urge to run away. For along moment, nothing moved. Then, he opened his mouth and whispered, "V… Voldemort."

Harry grinned. "There you go," he said proudly. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"

Draco opened his eyes again, elation filling him. He'd done it! It was nothing but a small act of rebellion, something unimportant done with no other witnesses, but it was a beginning. "No," he said. More firmly, "No it wasn't." He grinned back at Harry. Then, his expression smoothed back into a look of concern as he remembered the point of this conversation. "But it doesn't change things, you know. You're _still_ the only one who can defeat him."

Harry sighed. "I can't do it by myself," he argued. Draco frowned. Of _course_ he couldn't do it himself! But he was the only one who could actually kill the Dark… no. He was the only one who could actually kill _Voldemort_. That was why Voldemort had worked so hard to kill Harry first. The thought send chills up Draco's spine, and he focused instead on Harry's words.

"Do you know why I went to the ministry in June?"

Draco looked at him in surprise. "No," he admitted. "I always assumed it had to do with the… with Voldemort, but I don't know the real reason."

Harry hesitated for a long moment, so long that Draco thought he wasn't going to say anything. Finally, though, Harry began to explain. "It's actually kind of complicated. Remember in the third year, when there was all the fuss about Sirius Black?"

Draco nodded. Of course he remembered Sirius Black! Who didn't, after all? But what did it have to do with Harry's story?

"At the end of that year, we met. He was innocent, Draco! He didn't do it!"

Draco could tell that Harry desperately wanted him to believe this. Even so, he had to ask. "Then who did?"

"A man named Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, his voice full of loathing. "Otherwise known as Wormtail."

Draco's eyes widened. "_Him_?" he demanded. The ratty man with the silver hand? _He_ was the fabled Pettigrew?

Harry nodded. "Anyway, Hermione and I helped Sirius escape, and he went… somewhere safe. Then, last year, I started getting visions of the Department of Mysteries."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

"From Voldemort," he clarified. He touched his scar "Through this." Draco opened his mouth to ask another question, but Harry shook his head. "I don't know how. It just happens. Anyway, during the History of Magic OWL, I had a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius. I rushed off to save him, only to find that he wasn't there. It was a trap." Draco could hear the bitter, naked pain in his voice and ached to comfort him. He couldn't move, though. He just had to listen to the rest. "They came and asked for a prophecy. One about Voldemort and me. Sirius and… and others, came to rescue us, and Sirius was killed."

"I had no idea," Draco whispered, eyes widening as he took in what Harry was telling him. Harry was still holding his hand, and now Draco squeezed Harry's, trying to comfort the other boy. Harry smiled slightly at him.

"It gets worse," Harry said grimly, the smile vanishing. "Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said. It got smashed, by the way. Anyway, basically, it says that I have to kill Voldemort or he has to kill me. And then it goes on to talk about my having a power that Voldemort doesn't."

Draco looked at him in horror. Kill or be killed? What kind of a fate was that? And a weapon that Harry had and Voldemort didn't? "What?"

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore says that it's love," he said.

"Love?"

Harry nodded.

"How will that help?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he admitted.

Draco frowned suddenly, thinking of something that should have been obvious. "Harry," he asked, a little hesitantly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I love you," Harry said. Draco could hear the slight patronizing tone in his voice as he said the words.

"But…"

"If Dumbledore's right, then presumably you'll help me defeat Voldemort," Harry interrupted. "I don't know how, but, if he's right, that has to be it."

"Me?"

"Who else?" Harry paused, looking at him. "Will you?"

"I…" Him? What could _he_ do to help Harry defeat Voldemort? There was only one thing to say to that, though. "Yes."

Instead of responding, Harry hugged him fiercely. Draco hugged him back, and the two stayed there, unmoving and silent, for a very long time.

The days after that seemed to pass even more quickly. Draco couldn't help counting, and the two weeks seemed like mere days. Almost before he knew it, he was stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the last time that year, resisting the urge to cling to Harry. His father would be coming, and Draco knew that he would be dead very fast if his father saw him with Harry.

Harry was scanning the platform for his relatives, obviously as reluctant to leave as Draco himself. Finally, he made eye contact with them. Turning to look at Draco one last time, he stepped away and followed them out of the station. Draco himself drifted off towards where his father usually was. Sure enough, Lucius Malfoy was waiting for him. Draco closed his eyes, fixing Harry's face in his mind's eye. Then, he took a deep breath and opened them again, looking into his father's face and stealing himself for the summer to come.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the excellent J. K. Rowling. Both Harry and Draco are, unfortunately, hers, and I'm just messing with their heads. Please review and tell what you think. I'm not too happy with this, so I might take it down for a bit of editing. I wanted to get it up now so that you can all read it, though. This is the end of Like a Spring Flower. Expect the sequel, Every Rose has its Thorn, in a little while. Thank you all so much for reading this!

Other note: several people have asked me for PMs when the sequel is out. Here's the deal: you review chapter fourteen, I send you a PM. That way, I don't have to search through the list and send one to everyone, whether they like it or not, and you get a message from me. Deal?


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